THE MAGNETIC NORTH

By ELIZABETH ROBINS

(C. E. Raimond) Author of "The Open Question, " "Below the Salt, " etc. _With a Map_

1904

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. WINTER CAMP IN THE YUKON

II. HOUSE-WARMING

III. TWO NEW SPISSIMENS

IV. THE BLOW-OUT

V. THE SHAMÁN

VI. A PENITENTIAL JOURNEY

VII. KAVIAK'S CRIME

VIII. CHRISTMAS

IX. A CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

X. PRINCESS MUCKLUCK

XI. HOLY CROSS

XII. THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE

XIII. THE PIT

XIV. KURILLA

XV. THE ESQUIMAUX HORSE

XVI. MINOOK

XVII. THE GREAT STAMPEDE

XVIII. A MINERS' MEETING

XIX. THE ICE GOES OUT

XX. THE KLONDYKE

XXI. PARDNERS

XXII. THE GOING HOME

THE MAGNETIC NORTH

CHAPTER I

WINTER CAMP ON THE YUKON

"To labour and to be content with that a man hath is a sweet life; buthe that findeth a treasure is above them both. "--_Ecclesiasticus_. 

Of course they were bound for the Klondyke. Every creature in theNorth-west was bound for the Klondyke. Men from the South too, and menfrom the East, had left their ploughs and their pens, their factories, pulpits, and easy-chairs, each man like a magnetic needle suddenly setfree and turning sharply to the North; all set pointing the self-sameway since that July day in '97, when the _Excelsior_ sailed into SanFrancisco harbour, bringing from the uttermost regions at the top ofthe map close upon a million dollars in nuggets and in gold-dust. 

Some distance this side of the Arctic Circle, on the right bank of theYukon, a little detachment of that great army pressing northward, hadbeen wrecked early in the month of September. 

They had realised, on leaving the ocean-going ship that landed them atSt. Michael's Island (near the mouth of the great river), that theycould not hope to reach Dawson that year. But instead of "getting coldfeet, " as the phrase for discouragement ran, and turning back asthousands did, or putting in the winter on the coast, they determined, with an eye to the spring rush, to cover as many as possible of theseventeen hundred miles of waterway before navigation closed. 

They knew, in a vague way, that winter would come early, but they hadnot counted on the big September storm that dashed their heavy-ladenboats against the floe-ice, ultimately drove them ashore, and nearlycost the little party their lives. On that last day of the longstruggle up the stream, a stiff north-easter was cutting the middlereach of the mighty river, two miles wide here, into a choppy anddangerous sea. 

Day by day, five men in the two little boats, had kept serious eyes onthe shore. Then came the morning when, out of the monotonous cold andsnow-flurries, something new appeared, a narrow white rim forming onthe river margin--the first ice!

"Winter beginning to show his teeth, " said one man, with an effort atjocosity. 

Day by day, nearer came the menace; narrower and swifter still ran thedeep black water strip between the encroaching ice-lines. But thethought that each day's sailing or rowing meant many days nearer theKlondyke, seemed to inspire a superhuman energy. Day by day each manhad felt, and no man yet had said, "We must camp to-night for eightmonths. " They had looked landward, shivered, and held on their way. 

But on this particular morning, when they took in sail, they realisedit was to be that abomination of desolation on the shore or death. Andone or other speedily. 

Nearer the white teeth gleamed, fiercer the gale, swifter the current, sweeping back the boats. The _Mary C. _ was left behind, fighting forlife, while it seemed as if no human power could keep the _Tulare_ frombeing hurled against the western shore. Twice, in spite of all theycould do, she was driven within a few feet of what looked like certaindeath. With a huge effort, that last time, her little crew had just gother well in mid-stream, when a heavy roller breaking on the starboardside drenched the men and half filled the cockpit. Each rower, stillpulling for dear life with one hand, bailed the boat with the other;but for all their promptness a certain amount of the water froze solidbefore they could get it out. 

"Great luck, if we're going to take in water like this, " said thecheerful Kentuckian, shipping his oar and knocking off the ice--"greatluck that all the stores are so well protected. "

"Protected!" snapped out an anxious, cast-iron-looking man at therudder. 

"Yes, protected. How's water to get through the ice-coat that's overeverything?"

The cast-iron steersman set his jaw grimly. They seemed to becomparatively safe now, with half a mile of open water between them andthe western shore. 

But they sat as before, stiff, alert, each man in his ice jacket thatcracked and crunched as he bent to his oar. Now right, now left, againthey eyed the shore. 

Would it be--could it be there they would have to land? And if theydid... ?

Lord, how it blew!

"Hard a-port!" called out the steersman. There, just ahead, was a greatwhite-capped "roller" coming--coming, the biggest wave they hadencountered since leaving open sea. 

But MacCann, the steersman, swung the boat straight into the crestedroller, and the _Tulare_ took it gamely, "bow on. " All was going wellwhen, just in the boiling middle of what they had thought was foaming"white-cap, " the boat struck something solid, shivered, and wentshooting down, half under water; recovered, up again, and seemed topause in a second's doubt on the very top of the great wave. In thatsecond that seemed an eternity one man's courage snapped. 

Potts threw down his oar and swore by----and by----he wouldn't pullanother----stroke on the----Yukon. 

While he was pouring out the words, the steersman sprang from thetiller, and seized Potts' oar just in time to save the boat fromcapsizing. Then he and the big Kentuckian both turned on the distractedPotts. 

"You infernal quitter!" shouted the steersman, and choked with fury. But even under the insult of that "meanest word in the language, " Pottssat glaring defiantly, with his half-frozen hands in his pockets. 

"It ain't a river, anyhow, this ain't, " he said. "It's plain, simpleHell and water. "

The others had no time to realise that Potts was clean out of hissenses for the moment, and the Kentuckian, still pulling like mad, faced the "quitter" with a determination born of terror. 

"If you can't row, take the rudder! Damnation! Take that rudder! Quick, _or we'll kill you_!" And he half rose up, never dropping his oar. 

Blindly, Potts obeyed. 

The _Tulare_ was free now from the clinging mass at the bow, but theyknew they had struck their first floe. 

Farther on they could see other white-caps bringing other ice massesdown. But there was no time for terrors ahead. The gale was steadilydriving them in shore again. Boat and oars alike were growing unwieldywith their coating of ever-increasing ice, and human strength was nomatch for the storm that was sweeping down from the Pole. 

Lord, how it blew!

"There's a cove!" called out the Kentuckian. "Throw her in!" he shoutedto Potts. Sullenly the new steersman obeyed. 

Rolling in on a great surge, the boat suddenly turned in a boilingeddy, and the first thing anybody knew was that the _Tulare_ was on herside and her crew in the water. Potts was hanging on to the gunwale anddamning the others for not helping him to save the boat. 

She wasn't much of a boat when finally they got her into quiet water;but the main thing was they had escaped with their lives and rescued agood proportion of their winter provisions. All the while they weredoing this last, the Kentuckian kept turning to look anxiously for anysign of the others, in his heart bitterly blaming himself for havingagreed to Potts' coming into the _Tulare_ that day in place of theKentuckian's own "pardner. " When they had piled the rescued provisionsup on the bank, and just as they were covering the heap of bacon, flour, and bean-bags, boxes, tools, and utensils with a tarpaulin, upwent a shout, and the two missing men appeared tramping along theice-encrusted shore. 

Where was the _Mary C. _? Well, she was at the bottom of the Yukon, andher crew would like some supper. 

They set up a tent, and went to bed that first night extremely wellpleased at being alive on any terms. 

But people get over being glad about almost anything, unless misfortuneagain puts an edge on the circumstance. The next day, not being in anyimmediate danger, the boon of mere life seemed less satisfying. 

In detachments they went up the river several miles, and down about asfar. They looked in vain for any sign of the _Mary C. _. They prospectedthe hills. From the heights behind the camp they got a pretty fair ideaof the surrounding country. It was not reassuring. 

"As to products, there seems to be plenty of undersized timber, plentyof snow and plenty of river, and, as far as I can see, just nothingelse. "

"Well, there's oodles o' blueberries, " said the Boy, his inky-lookingmouth bearing witness to veracity; "and there are black and redcurrants in the snow, and rose-apples--"

"Oh, yes, " returned the other, "it's a sort of garden of Eden!"

A little below here it was four miles from bank to bank of the mainchannel, but at this point the river was only about two miles wide, andwhite already with floating masses of floe-ice going on a swift currentdown towards the sea, four hundred miles away. 

The right bank presented to the mighty river a low chain of hills, fringed at the base with a scattered growth of scrubby spruce, birch, willow, and cotton-wood. Timber line was only two hundred feet abovethe river brink; beyond that height, rocks and moss covered withnew-fallen snow. 

But if their side seemed cheerless, what of the land on the left bank?A swamp stretching endlessly on either hand, and back from the icyflood as far as eye could see, broken only by sloughs and an occasionalice-rimmed tarn. 

"We've been travelling just eight weeks to arrive at this, " said theKentuckian, looking at the desolate scene with a homesick eye. 

"We're not only pretty far from home, " grumbled another, "we're stillthirteen hundred miles away from the Klondyke. "

These unenlivening calculations were catching. 

"We're just about twenty-five hundred miles from the nearest railroador telegraph, and, now that winter's down on us, exactly eight monthsfrom anywhere in the civilised world. "

They had seen no sign of even savage life, no white trader, nothing toshow that any human foot had ever passed that way before. 

In that stillness that was like the stillness of death, they went upthe hillside, with footsteps muffled in the clinging snow; and sixtyfeet above the great river, in a part of the wood where the timber wasleast unpromising, they marked out a site for their winter quarters. 

Then this queer little company--a Denver bank-clerk, an ex-schoolmasterfrom Nova Scotia, an Irish-American lawyer from San Francisco, aKentucky "Colonel" who had never smelt powder, and "the Boy" (who wasno boy at all, but a man of twenty-two)--these five set to work fellingtrees, clearing away the snow, and digging foundations for a couple oflog-cabins--one for the Trio, as they called themselves, the other forthe Colonel and the Boy. 

These two had chummed from the hour they met on the steamer thatcarried them through the Golden Gate of the Pacific till--well, tillthe end of my story. 

The Colonel was a big tanned fellow, nearly forty--eldest of theparty--whom the others used to guy discreetly, because you couldn'tmention a place anywhere on the known globe, except the far north, which he had not personally inspected. But for this foible, as theuntravelled considered it, he was well liked and a littlefeared--except by the Boy, who liked him "first-rate, " and feared himnot at all. They had promptly adopted each other before they discoveredthat it was necessary to have one or more "pardners. " It seemed, fromall accounts, to be true, that up there at the top of the world a manalone is a man lost, and ultimately the party was added to asaforesaid. 

Only two of them knew anything about roughing it. Jimmie O'Flynn of'Frisco, the Irish-American lawyer, had seen something of frontierlife, and fled it, and MacCann, the Nova Scotian schoolmaster, hadspent a month in one of the Caribou camps, and on the strength of that, proudly accepted the nickname of "the Miner. "

Colonel George Warren and Morris Burnet, the Boy, had the best outfits;but this fact was held to be more than counter-balanced by the value ofthe schoolmaster's experience at Caribou, and by the extraordinaryhandiness of Potts, the Denver clerk, who had helped to build theshelter on deck for the disabled sick on the voyage up. This young manwith the big mouth and lazy air had been in the office of a bank eversince he left school, and yet, under pressure, he discovered a naturalneat-handedness and a manual dexterity justly envied by some of hisfellow-pioneers. His outfit was not more conspicuously meagre thanO'Flynn's, yet the Irishman was held to be the moneyed man of hisparty. Just why was never fully developed, but it was always said, "O'Flynn represents capital"; and O'Flynn, whether on that account, orfor a subtler and more efficient reason, always got the best ofeverything that was going without money and without price. 

On board ship O'Flynn, with his ready tongue and his goldenbackground--"representing capital"--was a leading spirit. Potts thehandy-man was a talker, too, and a good second. But, once in camp, Macthe Miner was cock of the walk, in those first days, quoted "Caribou, "and ordered everybody about to everybody's satisfaction. 

In a situation like this, the strongest lean on the man who has everseen "anything like it" before. It was a comfort that anybody even_thought_ he knew what to do under such new conditions. So the otherslooked on with admiration and a pleasant confidence, while Mac boldlycut a hole in the brand-new tent, and instructed Potts how to make aflange out of a tin plate, with which to protect the canvas from theheat of the stove-pipe. No more cooking now in the bitter open. Everyone admired Mac's foresight when he said:

"We must build rock fireplaces in our cabins, or we'll find our onelittle Yukon stove burnt out before the winter is over--before we havea chance to use it out prospecting. " And when Mac said they must pooltheir stores, the Colonel and the Boy agreed as readily as O'Flynn, whose stores consisted of a little bacon, some navy beans, and ademijohn of whisky. O'Flynn, however, urged that probably every man hada little "mite o' somethin'" that he had brought specially forhimself--somethin' his friends had given him, for instance. There wasPotts, now. They all knew how the future Mrs. Potts had brought aplum-cake down to the steamer, when she came to say good-bye, and madePotts promise he wouldn't unseal the packet till Christmas. It wouldn'tdo to pool Potts' cake--never! There was the Colonel, the only man thathad a sack of coffee. He wouldn't listen when they had told him tea wasthe stuff up here, and--well, perhaps other fellows didn't miss coffeeas much as a Kentuckian, though he _had_ heard--Never mind; theywouldn't pool the coffee. The Boy had some preserved fruit that heseemed inclined to be a hog about--

"Oh, look here. I haven't touched it!" "Just what I'm sayin'. You'rehoardin' that fruit. "

It was known that Mac had a very dacint little medicine-chest. Ofcourse, if any fellow was ill, Mac wasn't the man to refuse him alittle cold pizen; but he must be allowed to keep his own medicinechest--and that little pot o' Dundee marmalade. As for O'Flynn, hewould look after the "dimmi-john. "

But Mac was dead against the whisky clause. Alcohol had been the curseof Caribou, and in _this_ camp spirits were to be for medicinalpurposes only. Whereon a cloud descended on Mr. O'Flynn, and his healthbegan to suffer; but the precious demi-john was put away "in stock"along with the single bottles belonging to the others. Mac had taken aninventory, and no one in those early days dared touch anything withouthis permission. 

They had cut into the mountain-side for a level foundation, and werehard at it now hauling logs. 

"I wonder, " said the Boy, stopping a moment in his work, and looking atthe bleak prospect round him--"I wonder if we're going to see anybodyall winter. "

"Oh, sure to, " Mac thought; "Indians, anyhow. "

"Well, I begin to wish they'd mosy along, " said Potts; and the sociableO'Flynn backed him up. 

It was towards noon on the sixth day after landing (they had come tospeak of this now as a voluntary affair), when they were electrified byhearing strange voices; looked up from their work, and saw two whitemen seated on a big cake of ice going down the river with the current. When they recovered sufficiently from their astonishment at thespectacle, they ran down the hillside, and proposed to help the"castaways" to land. Not a bit of it. 

"_Land_ in that place! What you take us for? Not much! We're going toSt. Michael's. "

They had a small boat drawn up by them on the ice, and one man wasdressed in magnificent furs, a long sable overcoat and cap, and wearingquite the air of a North Pole Nabob. 

"Got any grub?" Mac called out. 

"Yes; want some?"

"Oh no; I thought you--"

"You're not going to try to live through the winter _there?_"

"Yes. "

"Lord! you _are_ in a fix!"

"That's we thought about you. "

But the travellers on the ice-raft went by laughing and joking at themen safe on shore with their tents and provisions. It made some of themvisibly uneasy. _Would_ they win through? Were they crazy to try it?They had looked forward eagerly to the first encounter with their kind, but this vision floating by on the treacherous ice, of men who ratherdared the current and the crash of contending floes than land where_they_ were, seemed of evil augury. The little incident left acuriously sinister impression on the camp. 

Even Mac was found agreeing with the others of his Trio that, sincethey had a grand, tough time in front of them, it was advisable to getthrough the black months ahead with as little wear and tear aspossible. In spite of the Trio's superior talents, they built a smallramshackle cabin with a tumble-down fireplace, which served them so illthat they ultimately spent all their waking hours in the morecomfortable quarters of the Colonel and the Boy. It had been agreedthat these two, with the help, or, at all events, the advice, of theothers, should build the bigger, better cabin, where the stores shouldbe kept and the whole party should mess--a cabin with a solid outsidechimney of stone and an open fireplace, generous of proportion andancient of design, "just like down South. "

The weather was growing steadily colder; the ice was solid now manyfeet out from each bank of the river. In the middle of the flood theclotted current still ran with floe-ice, but it was plain the river wassettling down for its long sleep. 

Not silently, not without stress and thunder. The handful of dwellerson the shore would be waked in the night by the shock and crash ofcolliding floes, the sound of the great winds rushing by, and--"Hush!What's that?" Tired men would start up out of sleep and sit straight tolisten. Down below, among the ice-packs, the noise as of an old-timebattle going on--tumult and crashing and a boom! boom! likecannonading. 

Then one morning they woke to find all still, the conflict over, theYukon frozen from bank to bank. No sound from that day on; no morerunning water for a good seven months. 

Winter had come. 

While the work went forward they often spoke of the only two peoplethey had thus far seen. Both Potts and O'Flynn had been heard to envythem. 

Mac had happened to say that he believed the fellow in furs was anEnglishman--a Canadian, at the very least. The Americans chaffed him, and said, "That accounts for it, " in a tone not intended to flatter. Mac hadn't thought of it before, but he was prepared to swear now thatif an Englishman--they were the hardiest pioneers on earth--or aCanadian was in favour of lighting out, "it must be for some goodreason. "

"Oh yes; we all know that reason. "

The Americans laughed, and Mac, growing hot, was goaded into vauntingthe Britisher and running down the Yankee. 

"Yankee!" echoed the Kentuckian. "And up in Nova Scotia they let thisman teach school! Doesn't know the difference yet between the littlecorner they call New England and all the rest of America. "

"All the rest of America!" shouted Mac. "The cheeky way you people ofthe States have of gobbling the Continent (in _talk_), just as thoughthe British part of it wasn't the bigger half!"

"Yes; but when you think _which_ half, you ought to be obliged to anyfellow for forgetting it. " And then they referred to effete monarchicalinstitutions, and by the time they reached the question of the kind ofking the Prince of Wales would make, Mac was hardly a safe man to arguewith. 

There was one bond between him and the Kentucky Colonel: they were bothreligious men; and although Mac was blue Presbyterian and an inveteratetheologian, somehow, out here in the wilderness, it was more possibleto forgive a man for illusions about the Apostolic Succession andmistaken views upon Church government. The Colonel, at all events, wasnot so lax but what he was ready to back up the Calvinist in anendeavour to keep the Sabbath (with a careful compromise between churchand chapel) and help him to conduct a Saturday-night Bible-class. 

But if the Boy attended the Bible-class with fervour and aired hisheresies with uncommon gusto, if he took with equal geniality ColonelWarren's staid remonstrance and Mac's fiery objurgation, Sunday morninginvariably found him more "agnostic" than ever, stoutly declining torecognise the necessity for "service. " For this was an occasion whenyou couldn't argue or floor anybody, or hope to make Mac "hoppin' mad, "or have the smallest kind of a shindy. The Colonel read the lessons, Mac prayed, and they all sang, particularly O'Flynn. Now, the Boycouldn't sing a note, so there was no fair division of entertainment, wherefore he would go off into the woods with his gun for company, andthe Catholic O'Flynn, and even Potts, were in better odour than he"down in camp" on Sundays. So far you may travel, and yet not escapethe tyranny of the "outworn creeds. "

The Boy came back a full hour before service on the second Sunday witha couple of grouse and a beaming countenance. Mac, who was cook thatweek, was the only man left in the tent. He looked agreeably surprisedat the apparition. 

"Hello!" says he more pleasantly than his Sunday gloom usuallypermitted. "Back in time for service?"

"I've found a native, " says the Boy, speaking as proudly as anyColumbus. "He's hurt his foot, and he's only got one eye, but he'ssplendid. Told me no end of things. He's coming here as fast as hisfoot will let him--he and three other Indians--Esquimaux, I mean. Theyhaven't had anything to eat but berries and roots for seven days. "

The Boy was feverishly overhauling the provisions behind the stove. 

"Look here, " says Mac, "hold on there. I don't know that we've come allthis way to feed a lot o' dirty savages. "

"But they're starving. " Then, seeing that that fact did not produce thedesired impression: "My savage is an awfully good fellow. He--he's aconverted savage, seems to be quite a Christian. " Then, hastilyfollowing up his advantage: "He's been taught English by the Jesuits atthe mission forty miles above us, on the river. He can give us a wholeheap o' tips. "

Mac was slowly bringing out a small panful of cold boiled beans. 

"There are four of them, " said the Boy--"big fellows, almost as big asour Colonel, and _awful_ hungry. "

Mac looked at the handful of beans and then at the small sheet-ironstove. 

"There are more cooking, " says he not over-cordially. 

"The one that talks good English is the son of the chief. You can seehe's different from the others. Knows a frightful lot. He's taught mesome of his language already. The men with him said 'Kaiomi' toeverything I asked, and that means 'No savvy. ' Says he'll teachme--he'll teach all of us--how to snow-shoe. "

"We know how to snow-shoe. "

"Oh, I mean on those long narrow snow-shoes that make you go so fastyou always trip up! He'll show us how to steer with a pole, and how tomake fish-traps and--and everything. "

Mac began measuring out some tea. 

"He's got a team of Esquimaux dogs--calls 'em Mahlemeuts, and he's gota birch-bark canoe, and a skin kyak from the coast. " Then with aninspiration: "His people are the sort of Royal Family down there, "added the Boy, thinking to appeal to the Britisher's monarchicalinstincts. 

Mac had meditatively laid his hand on a side of bacon, the Boy's eyesfollowing. 

"He's asked us--_all_ of us, and we're five--up to visit him at Pymeut, the first village above us here. " Mac took up a knife to cut the bacon. "And--good gracious! why, I forgot the grouse; they can have thegrouse!"

"No, they can't, " said Mac firmly; "they're lucky to get bacon. "

The Boy's face darkened ominously. When he looked like that the eldermen found it was "healthiest to give him his head. " But the young facecleared as quickly as it had clouded. After all, the point wasn't worthfighting for, since grouse would take time to cook, and--here were thenatives coming painfully along the shore. 

The Boy ran out and shouted and waved his cap. The other men of thecamp, who had gone in the opposite direction, across the river ice tolook at an air-hole, came hurrying back and reached camp about the sametime as the visitors. 

"Thought you said they were big fellows!" commented Mac, who had cometo the door for a glimpse of the Indians as they toiled up the slope. 

"Well, so they are!"

"Why, the Colonel would make two of any one of them. "

"The Colonel! Oh well, you can't expect anybody else to be quite as bigas that. I was in a hurry, but I suppose what I meant was, they couldeat as much as the Colonel. "

"How do you know?"

"Well, just look how broad they are. It doesn't matter to your stomachwhether you're big up and down, or big to and fro. "

"It's their furs make 'em look like that. They're the most awful littlerunts I ever saw!"

"Well, I reckon _you'd_ think they were big, too--big as NovaScotia--if _you'd_ found 'em--come on 'em suddenly like that in thewoods--"

"Which is the... ?"

"Oh, the son of the chief is in the middle, the one who is taking offhis civilised fur-coat. He says his father's got a heap of pelts (youcould get things for your collection, Mac), and he's got tworeindeer-skin shirts with hoods--'parkis, ' you know, like the othersare wearing--"

They were quite near now. 

"How do, " said the foremost native affably. 

"How do. " The Boy came forward and shook hands as though he hadn't seenhim for a month. "This, " says he, turning first to Mac and then to theother white men, "this is Prince Nicholas of Pymeut. Walk right in, allof you, and have something to eat. "

The visitors sat on the ground round the stove, as close as they couldget without scorching, and the atmosphere was quickly heavy with theirpresence. When they slipped back their hoods it was seen that two ofthe men wore the "tartar tonsure, " after the fashion of the coast. 

"Where do you come from?" inquired the Colonel of the man nearest him, who simply blinked and was dumb. 

"This is the one that talks English, " said the Boy, indicating Nicholas, "and he lives at Pymeut, and he's been converted. "

"How far is Pymeut?"

"We sleep Pymeut to-night, " says Nicholas. 

"Which way?"

The native jerked his head up the river. 

"Many people there?"

He nodded. 

"White men, too?"

He shook his head. 

"How far to the nearest white men?"

Nicholas's mind wandered from the white man's catechism and fixeditself on his race's immemorial problem: how far it was to the nearestthing to eat. 

"I thought you said he could speak English. "

"So he can, first rate. He and I had a great pow-wow, didn't we, Nicholas?"

Nicholas smiled absently, and fixed his one eye on the bacon that Macwas cutting on the deal box into such delicate slices. 

"He'll talk all right, " said the Boy, "when he's had some breakfast. "

Mac had finished the cutting, and now put the frying-pan on an openhole in the little stove. 

"Cook him?" inquired Nicholas. 

"Yes. Don't you cook him?"

"Take heap time, cook him. "

"You couldn't eat it raw!"

Nicholas nodded emphatically. 

Mac said "No, " but the Boy was curious to see if they would really eatit uncooked. 

"Let them have _some_ of it raw while the rest is frying"; and hebeckoned the visitors to the deal box. They made a dart forward, gathered up the fat bacon several slices at a time, and pushed it intotheir mouths. 

"Ugh!" said the Colonel under his breath. 

Mac quickly swept what was left into the frying-pan, and began to cut afresh lot. 

The Boy divided the cold beans, got out biscuits, and poured the tea, while silence and a strong smell of ancient fish and rancid sealpervaded the little tent. 

O'Flynn put a question or two, but Nicholas had gone stone-deaf. Therewas no doubt about it, they had been starving. 

After a good feed they sat stolidly by the fire, with no sign ofconsciousness, save the blinking of beady eyes, till the Colonelsuggested a smoke. Then they all grinned broadly, and nodded with greatvigour. Even those who had no other English understood "tobacco. "

When he had puffed awhile, Nicholas took his pipe out of his mouth, and, looking at the Boy, said:

"You no savvy catch fish in winter?"

"Through the ice? No. How you do it?"

"Make hole--put down trap--heap fish all winter. "

"You get enough to live on?" asked the Colonel. 

"They must have dried fish, too, left over from the summer, " said Mac. 

Nicholas agreed. "And berries and flour. When snow begin get soft, Pymeuts all go off--" He motioned with his big head towards the hills. 

"What do you get there?" Mac was becoming interested. 

"Caribou, moose--"

"Any furs?"

"Yes; trap ermun, marten--"

"Lynx, too, I suppose, and fox?"

Nicholas nodded. "All kinds. Wolf--muskrat, otter--wolverine--allkinds. "

"You got some skins now?" asked the Nova Scotian. 

"Y--yes. More when snow get soft. You come Pymeut--me show. "

"Where have ye been just now?" asked O'Flynn. 

"St. Michael. "

"How long since ye left there?"

"Twelve sleeps. "

"He means thirteen days. "

Nicholas nodded. 

"They couldn't possibly walk that far in--"

"Oh yes, " says the Boy; "they don't follow the windings of the river, they cut across the portage, you know. "

"Snow come--no trail--big mountains--all get lost. "

"What did you go to St. Michael's for?"

"Oh, me pilot. Me go all over. Me leave N. A. T. And T. Boat St. Michael's last trip. "

"Then you're in the employ of the great North American Trading andTransportation Company?"

Nicholas gave that funny little duck of the head that meant yes. 

"That's how you learnt English, " says the Colonel. 

"No; me learn English at Holy Cross. Me been baptize. "

"At that Jesuit mission up yonder?"

"Forty mile. "

"Well, " says Potts, "I guess you've had enough walking for one winter. "

Nicholas seemed not to follow this observation. The Boy interpreted:

"You heap tired, eh? You no go any more long walk till ice go out, eh?"

Nicholas grinned. 

"Me go Ikogimeut--all Pymeut go. "

"What for?"

"Big feast. "

"Oh, the Russian mission there gives a feast?"

"No. Big Innuit feast. "

"When?"

"Pretty quick. Every year big feast down to Ikogimeut when Yukon iceget hard, so man go safe with dog-team. "

"Do many people go?"

"All Innuit go, plenty Ingalik go. "

"How far do they come?"

"All over; come from Koserefsky, come from Anvik--sometime Nulato. "

"Why, Nulato's an awful distance from Ikogimeut. "

"Three hundred and twenty miles, " said the pilot, proud of his generalinformation, and quite ready, since he had got a pipe between histeeth, to be friendly and communicative. 

"What do you do at Ikogimeut when you have these--" "Big fire--bigfeed--tell heap stories--big dance. Oh, heap big time!"

"Once every year, eh, down at Ikogimeut?"

"Three times ev' year. Ev' village, and"--he lowered his voice, notwith any hit of reverence or awe, but with an air of making a sly andcheerful confidence--"and when man die. "

"You make a feast and have a dance when a friend dies?"

"If no priests. Priests no like. Priests say, 'Man no dead; man goneup. '" Nicholas pondered the strange saying, and slowly shook his head. 

"In that the priests are right, " said Mac grudgingly. 

It was anything but politic, but for the life of him the Boy couldn'thelp chipping in:

"You think when man dead he stay dead, eh, and you might as well make afeast?"

Nicholas gave his quick nod. "We got heap muskeetah, we cold, wehungry. We here heap long time. Dead man, he done. Why no big feast? Ohyes, heap big feast. "

The Boy was enraptured. He would gladly have encouraged these pagandeliverances on the part of the converted Prince, but the Colonel wasscandalised, and Mac, although in his heart of hearts not ill-satisfiedat the evidence of the skin-deep Christianity of a man delivered overto the corrupt teaching of the Jesuits, found in this last fact all thestronger reason for the instant organisation of a good Protestantprayer-meeting. Nicholas of Pymeut must not be allowed to think it wasonly Jesuits who remembered the Sabbath day to keep it holy. 

And the three "pore benighted heathen" along with him, if they didn'tunderstand English words, they should have an object-lesson, and Macwould himself pray the prayers they couldn't utter for themselves. Hejumped up, motioned the Boy to put on more wood, cleared away thegranite-ware dishes, filled the bean-pot and set it back to simmer, while the Colonel got out Mac's Bible and his own Prayer-Book. 

The Boy did his stoking gloomily, reading aright these portents. Almosteclipsed was joy in this "find" of his (for he regarded the preciousNicholas as his own special property). It was all going to end inhis--the Boy's--being hooked in for service. As long as the Esquimauxwere there _he_ couldn't, of course, tear himself away. And here wasthe chance they'd all been waiting for. Here was a native chock-full ofknowledge of the natural law and the immemorial gospel of the North, who would be gone soon--oh, very soon, if Mac and the Colonel went onlike this--and they were going to choke off Nicholas's communicativenesswith--a service!

"It's Sunday, you know, " says the Colonel to the Prince, laying openhis book, "and we were just going to have church. You are accustomed togoing to church at Holy Cross, aren't you?"

"When me kid me go church. "

"You haven't gone since you grew up? They still have church there, don't they?"

"Oh, Father Brachet, him have church. "

"Why don't you go?"

Nicholas was vaguely conscious of threatened disapproval. 

"Me ... Me must take up fish-traps. "

"Can't you do that another day?"

It seemed not to have occurred to Nicholas before. He sat andconsidered the matter. 

"Isn't Father Brachet, " began the Colonel gravely--"he doesn't like it, does he, when you don't come to church?"

"He take care him church; him know me take care me fish-trap. "

But Nicholas saw plainly out of his one eye that he was not growing inpopularity. Suddenly that solitary organ gleamed with self-justification. 

"Me bring fish to Father Brachet and to Mother Aloysius and theSisters. "

Mac and the Colonel exchanged dark glances. 

"Do Mother Aloysius and the Sisters live where Father Brachet does?"

"Father Brachet, and Father Wills, and Brother Paul, and BrotherEtienne, all here. " The native put two fingers on the floor. "Big whitecross in middle"--he laid down his pipe to personate thecross--"here"--indicating the other side--"here Mother Aloysius and theSisters. "

"I thought, " says Mac, "we'd be hearing of a convent convenient. "

"Me help Father Brachet, " observed Nicholas proudly. "Me show him boyshow make traps, show him girls how make mucklucks. " "_What_!" gasps thehorrified Mac, "Father Brachet has got a family?"

"Famly?" inquired Nicholas. "Kaiomi"; and he shook his headuncertainly. 

"You say Father Brachet has got boys, and"--as though this were a yetdeeper brand of iniquity--"_girls_?"

Nicholas, though greatly mystified, nodded firmly. 

"I suppose he thinks away off up here nobody will ever know. Oh, theseJesuits!"

"How many children has this shameless priest?"

"Father Brachet, him got seventeen boys, and--me no savvy how muchgirl--twelve girl ... Twenty girl ... "

The Boy, who had been splitting with inward laughter, exploded at thisjuncture. 

"He keeps a native school, Mac. "

"Yes, " says Nicholas, "teach boy make table, chair, potatoes grow--allkinds. Sisters teach girl make dinner, wash--all kinds. Heap goodpeople up at Holy Cross. "

"Divil a doubt of it, " says O'Flynn. 

But this blind belauding of the children of Loyola only fired Mac themore to give the heathen a glimpse of the true light. In what darknessmust they grope when a sly, intriguing Jesuit (it was well known theywere all like that) was for them a type of the "heap good man"--apriest, forsooth, who winked at Sabbath-breaking because he and hisneighbouring nuns shared in the spoil!

Well, they must try to have a truly impressive service. Mac and theColonel telegraphed agreement on this head. Savages were said to bespecially touched by music. 

"I suppose when you were a kid the Jesuits taught you chants and soon, " said the Colonel, kindly. 

"Kaiomi, " answered Nicholas after reflection. 

"You can sing, can't you?" asks O'Flynn. 

"Sing? No, me dance!"

The Boy roared with delight. 

"Why, yes, I never thought of that. You fellows do the songs, andNicholas and I'll do the dances. "

Mac glowered angrily. "Look here: if you don't mind being blasphemousfor yourself, don't demoralise the natives. "

"Well, I like that! Didn't Miriam dance before the Lord? Why shouldn'tNicholas and me?"

The Colonel cleared his throat, and began to read the lessons for theday. The natives sat and watched him closely. They really behaved verywell, and the Boy was enormously proud of his new friends. There was agreat deal at stake. The Boy felt he must walk warily, and he alreadyregretted those light expressions about dancing before the Lord. Allthe fun of the winter might depend on a friendly relation betweenPymeut and the camp. It was essential that the Esquimaux should notonly receive, but make, a good impression. 

The singing "From Greenland's icy mountains to India's coral strand"seemed to please them; but when, after the Colonel's "Here endeth thesecond lesson, " Mac said, in sepulchral tones, "Let us pray, " thevisitors seemed to think it was time to go home. 

"No, " said Mac sternly, "they mustn't go in the middle of the meeting";and he proceeded to kneel down. 

But Nicholas was putting on his fur coat, and the others only waited tofollow him out. The Boy, greatly concerned lest, after all, the visitshould end badly, dropped on his knees to add the force of his ownexample, and through the opening phrases of Mac's prayer the agnosticwas heard saying, in a loud stage-whisper, "Do like me--down! Lookhere! Suppose you ask us come big feast, and in the middle of yourdance we all go home--. 

"Oh no, " remonstrated Nicholas. 

"Very well. These friends o' mine no like man go home in the middle. They heap mad at me when I no stay. You savvy?"

"Me savvy, " says Nicholas slowly and rather depressed. 

"Kneel down, then, " says the Boy. And first Nicholas, and then theothers, went on their knees. 

Alternately they looked in the Boy's corner where the grub was, andthen over their shoulders at the droning Mac and back, catching theBoy's eye, and returning his reassuring nods and grins. 

Mac, who had had no innings up to this point, was now embarked upon amost congenial occupation. Wrestling with the Lord on behalf of theheathen, he lost count of time. On and on the prayer wound its slowway; involution after involution, coil after coil, like a snake, theBoy thought, lazing in the sun. Unaccustomed knees grew sore. 

"Hearken to the cry of them that walk in darkness, misled by wolves insheep's clothing--_wolves_, Lord, wearing the sign of the Holy Cross--"

O'Flynn shuffled, and Mac pulled himself up. No light task this ofconveying to the Creator, in covert terms, a due sense of the iniquityof the Jesuits, without, at the same time, stirring O'Flynn's bile, andseeing him get up and stalk out of meeting, as had happened oncebefore. 

O'Flynn was not deeply concerned about religious questions, but "therewere limits. " The problem was how to rouse the Lord without rousingO'Flynn--a piece of negotiation so delicate, calling for a skill inpious invective so infinitely absorbing to Mac's particular cast ofmind, that he was quickly stone-blind and deaf to all things else. 

"Not all the heathen are sunk in iniquity; but they are weak, tempted, and they weary, Lord!"

"Amen, " said the Boy, discreetly. "How long?" groaned Mac--"Oh Lord, how long?" But it was much longer than he realised. The Boy saw thevisitors shifting from one knee to another, and feared the worst. Buthe sympathised deeply with their predicament. To ease his own legs, hechanged his position, and dragged a corner of the sailcloth down offthe little pile of provisions, and doubled it under his knees. 

The movement revealed the bag of dried apples within arm's length. Nicholas was surreptitiously reaching for his coat. No doubt about it, he had come to the conclusion that this was the fitting moment todepart. A look over his shoulder showed Mac absorbed, and taking freshbreath at "Sixthly, Oh Lord. " The Boy put out a hand, and dragged theapple-bag slowly, softly towards him. The Prince dropped the sleeve ofhis coat, and fixed his one eye on his friend. The Boy undid the neckof the sack, thrust in his hand, and brought out a fistfull. Anotherlook at Mac--still hard at it, trying to spare O'Flynn's feelingswithout mincing matters with the Almighty. 

The Boy winked at Nicholas, made a gesture, "Catch!" and fired a bit ofdried apple at him, at the same time putting a piece in his own mouthto show him it was all right. 

Nicholas followed suit, and seemed pleased with the result. He showedall his strong, white teeth, and ecstatically winked his one eye backat the Boy, who threw him another bit and then a piece to each of theothers. 

The Colonel had "caught on, " and was making horrible frowns at the Boy. Potts and O'Flynn looked up, and in dumbshow demanded a share. No? Verywell, they'd tell Mac. So the Boy had to feed them, too, to keep themquiet. And still Mac prayed the Lord to catch up this slip he had madehere on the Yukon with reference to the natives. In the midst of apowerful peroration, he happened to open his eyes a little, and theyfell on the magnificent great sable collar of Prince Nicholas's coat. 

Without any of the usual slowing down, without the accustomed warningof a gradual descent from the high themes of heaven to the things ofcommon earth, Mac came down out of the clouds with a bump, and thesudden, business-like "Amen" startled all the apple-chewingcongregation. 

Mac stood up, and says he to Nicholas:

"Where did you get that coat?"

Nicholas, still on his knees, stared, and seemed in doubt if this werea part of the service. 

"Where did you get that coat?" repeated Mac. 

The Boy had jumped up nimbly. "I told you his father has a lot offurs. "

"Like this?"

"No, " says Nicholas; "this belong white man. "

"Ha, " says Mac excitedly, "I thought I'd seen it before. Tell us howyou got it. "

"Me leave St. Michael; me got ducks, reindeer meat--oh, _plenty_kow-kow! [Footnote: Food] Two sleeps away St. Michael me meet Indian. Heap hungry. Him got bully coat. " Nicholas picked it up off the floor. "Him got no kow-kow. Him say, 'Give me duck, give me back-fat. You takecoat, him too heavy. ' Me say, 'Yes. '"

"But how did he get the coat?"

"Him say two white men came down river on big ice. "

"Yes, yes--"

"Men sick. " He tapped his forehead. "Man no sick, he no go down withthe ice"; and Nicholas shuddered. "Before Ikogimeut, ice jam. Indiansee men jump one big ice here, more big ice here, and one... Go down. Indian"--Nicholas imitated throwing out a line--"man tie mahoutround--but--big ice come--" Nicholas dashed his hands together, andthen paused significantly. "Indian sleep there. Next day ice hard. Indian go little way out to see. Man dead. Him heap good coat, " hewound up unemotionally, and proceeded to put it on. 

"And the other white man--what became of him?"

Nicholas shrugged: "Kaiomi, " though it was plain he knew well enoughthe other lay under the Yukon ice. 

"And that--_that_ was the end of the fellows who went by jeering atus!"

"We'd better not crow yet, " said Mac. And they bade Prince Nicholas andhis heathen retinue good-bye in a mood chastened not by prayer alone. 

CHAPTER II

HOUSE-WARMING

"There is a sort of moral climate in a household. "--JOHN MORLEY. 

No idle ceremony this, but the great problem of the dwellers in thecountry of the Yukon. 

The Colonel and the Boy made up their minds that, whatever else theyhad or had not, they would have a warm house to live in. And when theyhad got it, they would have a "Blow-out" to celebrate the achievement. 

"We'll invite Nicholas, " says the Boy. "I'll go to Pymeut myself, andlet him know we are going to have 'big fire, big feed. Oh, heap bigtime!'"

If the truth were told, it had been a difficult enough matter to keepaway from Pymeut since the hour Nicholas had vanished in thatdirection; but until winter quarters were made, and until they wereproved to be warm, there was no time for the amenities of life. 

The Big Cabin (as it was quite seriously called, in contradistinctionto the hut of the Trio) consisted of a single room, measuring on theoutside sixteen feet by eighteen feet. 

The walls of cotton-wood logs soared upward to a level of six feet, andthis height was magnificently increased in the middle by the angle ofthe mildly gable roof. But before the cabin was breast-high the Boy hadbegun to long for a window. 

"Sorry we forgot the plate-glass, " says Mac. 

"Wudn't ye like a grrand-piana?" asks O'Flynn. 

"What's the use of goin' all the way from Nova Scotia to Caribou, " saysthe Boy to the Schoolmaster-Miner, "if you haven't learned the way tomake a window like the Indians, out of transparent skin?"

Mac assumed an air of elevated contempt. 

"I went to mine, not to learn Indian tricks. "

"When the door's shut it'll be dark as the inside of a cocoa-nut. "

"You ought to have thought of that before you left the sunny South, "said Potts. 

"It'll be dark all winter, window or no window, " Mac reminded them. 

"Never mind, " said the Colonel, "when the candles give out we'll havethe fire-light. Keep all the spruce knots, boys!"

But one of the boys was not pleased. The next day, looking for amonkey-wrench under the tarpaulin, he came across the wooden box aCalifornia friend had given him at parting, containing a dozen tallglass jars of preserved fruit. The others had growled at the extra bulkand weight, when the Boy put the box into the boat at St. Michael's, but they had now begun to look kindly on it and ask when it was to beopened. He had answered firmly:

"Not before Christmas, " modifying this since Nicholas's visit to "Notbefore the House-Warming. " But one morning the Boy was found pouringthe fruit out of the jars into some empty cans. 

"What you up to?"

"Wait an' see. " He went to O'Flynn, who was dish-washer that week, gothim to melt a couple of buckets of snow over the open-air campfire andwash the fruit-jars clean. 

"Now, Colonel, " says the Boy, "bring along that buck-saw o' yours andlend a hand. "

They took off the top log from the south wall of the cabin, measured atwo-foot space in the middle, and the Colonel sawed out the superfluousspruce intervening. While he went on doing the same for the other logson that side, the Boy roughly chiselled a moderately flat sill. Thenone after another he set up six of the tall glass jars in a row, andshowed how, alternating with the other six bottles turned upside down, the thick belly of one accommodating itself to the thin neck of theother, the twelve made a very decent rectangle of glass. When they hadhoisted up, and fixed in place, the logs on each side, and the bigfellow that went all across on top; when they had filled theinconsiderable cracks between the bottles with some of the mud-mortarwith which the logs were to be chinked, behold a double glass windowfit for a king!

The Boy was immensely pleased. 

"Oh, that's an old dodge, " said Mac depreciatingly. "Why, they did thatat Caribou!"

"Then, why in--Why didn't you suggest it?"

"You wait till you know more about this kind o' life, and you won't goin for fancy touches. "

Nevertheless, the man who had mined at Caribou seemed to feel that somecontribution from him was necessary to offset the huge success of thatwindow. He did not feel called upon to help to split logs for the roofof the Big Cabin, but he sat cutting and whittling away at a littleshelf which he said was to be nailed up at the right of the Big Cabindoor. Its use was not apparent, but no one dared call it a "fancytouch, " for Mac was a miner, and had been to Caribou. 

When the shelf was nailed up, its maker brought forth out of hismedicine-chest a bottle of Perry Davis's Pain-killer. 

"Now at Caribou, " says he, "they haven't got any more thermometerskicking round than we have here, but they discovered that when PerryDavis congeals you must keep a sharp look-out for frost-bite, and whenPerry Davis freezes solid, you'd better mind your eye and stay in yourcabin, if you don't want to die on the trail. " With which he tied astring round Perry Davis's neck, set the bottle up on the shelf, andsecured it firmly in place. They all agreed it was a grand advantage tohave been to Caribou!

But Mac knew things that he had probably not learned there, abouttrees, and rocks, and beasts, and their manners and customs and familynames. If there were more than a half-truth in the significant lamentof a very different man, "I should be a poet if only I knew the namesof things, " then, indeed, Samuel MacCann was equipped to make a mark inliterature. 

From the time he set foot on the volcanic shore of St Michael's Island, Mac had begun his "collection. "

Nowadays, when he would spend over "that truck of his" hours that mightprofitably (considering his talents) be employed in helping to fortifythe camp against the Arctic winter, his companions felt it little useto remonstrate. 

By themselves they got on rapidly with work on the roof, very muchhelped by three days' unexpectedly mild weather. When the split logshad been marshalled together on each side of the comb, they coveredthem with dried moss and spruce boughs. 

Over all they laid a thick blanket of the earth which had been dug outto make a level foundation. The cracks in the walls were chinked withmoss and mud-mortar. The floor was the naked ground, "to be carpetedwith skins by-and-by, " so Mac said; but nobody believed Mac would put askin to any such sensible use. 

The unreasonable mildness of three or four days and the little surfacethaw, came to an abrupt end in a cold rain that turned to sleet as itfell. Nobody felt like going far afield just then, even after game, butthey had set the snare that Nicholas told the Boy about on that firstencounter in the wood. Nicholas, it seemed, had given him a noose madeof twisted sinew, and showed how it worked in a running loop. He hadillustrated the virtue of this noose when attached to a pole balancedin the crotch of a tree, caught over a horizontal stick by means of asmall wooden pin tied to the snare. A touch at the light end of thesuspended pole (where the baited loop dangles) loosens the pin, and theheavy end of the pole falls, hanging ptarmigan or partridge in the air. 

For some time after rigging this contrivance, whenever anyone reported"tracks, " Mac and the Boy would hasten to the scene of action, and seta new snare, piling brush on each side of the track that the game hadrun in, so barring other ways, and presenting a line of leastresistance straight through the loop. 

In the early days Mac would come away from these preparations sayingwith dry pleasure:

"Now, with luck, we may get a _Xema Sabinii_, " or some such fearfulwildfowl. 

"Good to eat?" the Boy would ask, having had his disappointments erenow in moments of hunger for fresh meat, when Mac, with the nearestapproach to enthusiasm he permitted himself, had brought in somemiserable little hawk-owl or a three-toed woodpecker to add, not to thelarder, but to the "collection. "

"No, you don't _eat_ Sabine gulls, " Mac would answer pityingly. 

But those snares never seemed to know what they were there for. Thefirst one was set expressly to catch one of the commonest birds thatfly--Mac's _Lagopus albus_, the beautiful white Arctic grouse, or atthe very least a _Bonasa umbellus_, which, being interpreted, is ruffedptarmigan. The tracks had been bird tracks, but the creature that swungin the air next day was a baby hare. The Schoolmaster looked upon theincident as being in the nature of a practical joke, and resented it. But the others were enchanted, and professed thereafter a rootedsuspicion of the soundness of the Schoolmaster's Natural History, whichnobody actually felt. For he had never yet pretended to know anythingthat he didn't know well; and when Potts would say somethingdisparaging of Mac's learning behind his back (which was against theunwritten rules of the game) the Colonel invariably sat on Potts. 

"Knows a darned sight too much? No, he _don't_, sir; that's just theremarkable thing about Mac. He isn't trying to carry any more than hecan swing. "

At the same time it is to be feared that none of his companions reallyappreciated the pedagogue's learning. Nor had anyone but the Boysympathised with his resolution to make a Collection. What they wantedwas eatable game, and they affected no intelligent interest in knowingthe manners and customs of the particular species that was sending upappetising odours from the pot. 

They even applauded the rudeness of the Boy, who one day responded toMac's gravely jubilant "Look here! I've got the _Parus Hudsonicus_!"--

"Poor old man! What do you do for it?"

And when anybody after that was indisposed, they said he might besickening for an attack of Parus Hudsonicus, and in that case it was abad look-out. 

Well for Mac that he wouldn't have cared a red cent to impress thegreatest naturalist alive, let alone a lot of fellows who didn't know atitmouse from a disease. 

Meanwhile work on the Big Cabin had gone steadily forward. From theoutside it looked finished now, and distinctly imposing. From what wereleft of the precious planks out of the bottom of the best boat they hadmade the door--two by four, and opening directly in front of thatmasterpiece, the rock fireplace. The great stone chimney was the prideof the camp and the talk before the winter was done of all "the LowerRiver. "

Spurred on partly by the increased intensity of the cold, partly by theColonel's nonsense about the way they did it "down South, " Mac rousedhimself, and turned out a better piece of masonry for the Big Cabinthan he had thought necessary for his own. But everybody had a share inthe glory of that fireplace. The Colonel, Potts, and the Boy selectedthe stone, and brought it on a rude litter out of a natural quarry froma place a mile or more away up on the bare mountain-side. O'Flynn mixedand handed up the mud-mortar, while Mac put in some brisk work with itbefore it stiffened in the increasing cold. 

Everybody was looking forward to getting out of the tent and into thewarm cabin, and the building of the fireplace stirred enthusiasm. Itwas two and a half feet deep, three and a half feet high, and four feetwide, and when furnished with ten-inch hack logs, packed in glowingashes and laid one above another, with a roaring good blaze in front ofbirch and spruce, that fire would take a lot of beating, as the Boyadmitted, "even in the tat-pine Florida country. "

But no fire on earth could prevent the cabin from being swept through, the moment the door was opened, by a fierce and icy air-current. Thelate autumnal gales revealed the fact that the sole means ofventilation had been so nicely contrived that whoever came in or wentout admitted a hurricane of draught that nearly knocked him down. Pottssaid it took a good half-hour, after anyone had opened the door, toheat the place up again. 

"What! You cold?" inquired the usual culprit. The Boy had come in toput an edge on his chopper. "It's stopped snowin', an' you better comealong with me, Potts. Swing an axe for a couple of hours--that'll warmyou. "

"I've got rheumatism in my shoulder to-day, " says Potts, hugging thehuge fire closer. 

"And you've got something wrong with your eyes, eh, Mac?"

Potts narrowed his and widened the great mouth; but he had turned hishead so Mac couldn't see him. 

The Nova Scotian only growled and refilled his pipe. Up in the woodsthe Boy repeated the conversation to the Colonel, who looked across atO'Flynn several yards away, and said: "Hush!"

"Why must I shut up? Mac's _eyes_ do look rather queer and bloodshot. Ishould think he'd rather feel we lay it to his eyes than know we'reafraid he's peterin' out altogether. "

"I never said I was afraid--"

"No, you haven't _said_ much. " "I haven't opened my head about it. "

"No, but you've tried hard enough for five or six days to get Mac tothe point where he would come out and show us how to whip-saw. Youhaven't _said_ anything, but you've--you've got pretty dignified eachtime you failed, and we all know what that means. "

"We ought to have begun sawing boards for our bunks and swing-shelf aweek back, before this heavy snowfall. Besides, there's enoughfire-wood now; we're only marking time until--"

"Until Mac's eyes get all right. I understand. "

Again the Colonel had made a sound like "Sh!" and went on swinging hisaxe. 

They worked without words till the Boy's tree came down. Then hestopped a moment, and wiped his face. 

"It isn't so cold to-day, not by a long shot, for all Potts's howlingabout his rheumatics. "

"It isn't cold that starts that kind of pain. "

"No, siree. I'm not much of a doctor, but I can see Potts's rheumatismdoesn't depend on the weather. "

"Never you mind Potts. "

"I don't mind Potts. I only mind Mac. What's the matter with Mac, anyway?"

"Oh, he's just got cold feet. Maybe he'll thaw out by-and-by. "

"Did you ever think what Mac's like? With that square-cut jaw andsawed-off nose, everything about him goin' like this"--the Boydescribed a few quick blunt angles in the air--"well, sir, he's thelivin' image of a monkey-wrench. I'm comin' to think he's as much likeit inside as he is out. He can screw up for a prayer-meetin', or he canscrew down for business--when he's a mind, but, as Jimmie over theresays, 'the divil a different pace can you put him through. ' I _like_monkey-wrenches! I'm only sayin' they aren't as limber as willa-trees. "

No response from the Colonel, who was making the chips fly. It had costhis great body a good many aches and bruises, but he was a capitalaxeman now, and not such a bad carpenter, though when the Boy said asmuch he had answered:

"Carpenter! I'm just a sort of a well-meanin' wood-butcher"; and deeplyhe regretted that in all his young years on a big place in the countryhe had learnt so little about anything but horses and cattle. 

On the way back to dinner they spoke again of this difficulty of theboards. O'Flynn whistled "Rory O'More" with his pleasant air ofdetachment. 

"You and the others would take more interest in the subject, " said theBoy a little hotly, "if we hadn't let you fellows use nearly all theboat-planks for _your_ bunks, and now we haven't got any for our own. "

"_Let_ us use 'em! Faith! we had a right to'm. "

"To boards out of _our_ boat!"

"And ye can have the loan o' the whip-saw to make more, whenever thefancy takes ye. "

"Loan o' the whip-saw! Why, it's mine, " says the Colonel. 

"Divil a bit of it, man!" says O'Flynn serenely. "Everything we've gotbelongs to all of us, except a sack o' coffee, a medicine-chest, and adimmi-john. And it's mesilf that's afraid the dimmi-john--"

"What's the use of my having bought a whip-saw?" interrupted theColonel, hurriedly. "What's the good of it, if the only man that knowshow to use it--"

"Is more taken up wid bein' a guardjin angel to his pardner'sdimmi-john--"

The Colonel turned and frowned at the proprietor of the dimmi-john. TheBoy had dropped behind to look at some marten tracks in thefresh-fallen snow. 

"I'll follow that trail after dinner, " says he, catching up the othersin time to hear O'Flynn say:

"If it wusn't that ye think only a feller that's been to Caribou canteach ye annything it's Jimmie O'Flynn that 'ud show ye how to play achune on that same whip-saw. "

"Will you show us after dinner?"

"Sure I will. "

And he was as good as his word. 

This business of turning a tree into boards without the aid of asaw-mill is a thing many placer-miners have to learn; for, even if theyare disposed to sleep on the floor, and to do without shelves, theycan't do sluicing without sluice-boxes, and they can't make those long, narrow boxes without boards. 

So every party that is well fitted out has a whip-saw. 

"Furrst ye dig a pit, " O'Flynn had said airily, stretched out beforethe fire after dinner. "Make it about four feet deep, and as long asye'd like yer boards. When ye've done that I'll come and take a hand. "

The little job was not half finished when the light tailed. Two daysmore of soil-burning and shovelling saw it done. 

"Now ye sling a couple o' saplings acrost the durrt ye've chucked out. R-right! Now ye roll yer saw-timber inter the middle. R-right! An' oneach side ye want a log to stand on. See? Wid yer 'guide-man' on topsthradlin' yer timberr, watchin' the chalk-line and doin' the pull-up, and the otherr fellerr in the pit lookin' afther the haul-down, ye'llbe able to play a chune wid that there whip-saw that'll make theserryphims sick o' plain harps. " O'Flynn superintended it all, and evenPotts had the curiosity to come out and see what they were up to. Macwas "kind o' dozin'" by the fire. 

When the frame was finished O'Flynn helped to put the trial-log inplace, having marked it off with charcoal to indicate inch and aquarter planks. Then the Colonel, down in the pit, and O'Flynn on topof the frame, took the great two-handled saw between them, and beganlaboriously, one drawing the big blade up, and the other down, vertically through the log along the charcoal line. 

"An' _that's_ how it's done, wid bits of yer arrums and yer back thathave niver been called on to wurruk befure. An' whin ye've been at itan hour ye'll find it goes betther wid a little blasphemin';" and hegave his end of the saw to the reluctant Potts. 

Potts was about this time as much of a problem to his pardners as wasthe ex-schoolmaster. If the bank clerk had surprised them all by hishandiness on board ship, and by making a crane to swing the pots overthe fire, he surprised them all still more in these days by an apparenteclipse of his talents. It was unaccountable. Potts's carpentering, Potts's all-round cleverness, was, like "payrock in a pocket, " as theminers say, speedily worked out, and not a trace of it afterwards to befound. 

But less and less was the defection of the Trio felt. The burlyKentucky stock-farmer was getting his hand in at "frontier" work, though he still couldn't get on without his "nigger, " as the Boy said, slyly indicating that it was he who occupied this exalted post. Thesetwo soon had the bunks made out of the rough planks they had sawed withall a green-horn's pains. They put in a fragrant mattress of springmoss, and on that made up a bed of blankets and furs. 

More boards were laboriously turned out to make the great swing-shelfto hang up high in the angle of the roof, where the provisions might bestored out of reach of possible marauders. 

The days were very short now, bringing only about five hours of pallidlight, so little of which struggled through the famous bottle-windowthat at all hours they depended chiefly on the blaze from the greatfireplace. There was still a good deal of work to be done indoors, shelves to be put up on the left as you entered (whereon thegranite-ware tea-service, etc. , was kept), a dinner-table to be made, and three-legged stools. While these additions--"fancy touches, " as theTrio called them--were being made, Potts and O'Flynn, althoughoccasionally they went out for an hour or two, shot-gun on shoulder, seldom brought home anything, and for the most part were content withdoing what they modestly considered their share of the cooking andwashing. For the rest, they sat by the fire playing endless games ofeuchre, seven-up and bean poker, while Mac, more silent than ever, smoked and read Copps's "Mining Laws" and the magazines of the previousAugust. 

Nobody heard much in those days of Caribou. The Colonel had graduallyslipped into the position of Boss of the camp. The Trio were still justa trifle afraid of him, and he, on his side, never pressed a dangerousissue too far. 

But this is a little to anticipate. 

One bitter gray morning, that had reduced Perry Davis to a solid lumpof ice, O'Flynn, the Colonel, and the Boy were bringing into the cabinthe last of the whip-sawed boards. The Colonel halted and lookedsteadily up the river. 

"Is that a beast or a human?" said he. 

"It's a man, " the Boy decided after a moment--"no, two men, singlefile, and--yes--Colonel, it's dogs. Hooray! a dog-team at last!"

They had simultaneously dropped the lumber. The Boy ran on to tell thecook to prepare more grub, and then pelted after O'Flynn and theColonel, who had gone down to meet the newcomers--an Indian drivingfive dogs, which were hitched tandem to a low Esquimaux sled, with apack and two pairs of web-foot snow-shoes lashed on it, and followed bya white man. The Indian was a fine fellow, younger than PrinceNicholas, and better off in the matter of eyes. The white man was agood deal older than either, with grizzled hair, a worn face, brightdark eyes, and a pleasant smile. 

"I had heard some white men had camped hereabouts, " says he. "I am gladto see we have such substantial neighbours. " He was looking up at thestone chimney, conspicuous a long way off. 

"We didn't know we had any white neighbours, " said the Colonel in hismost grand and gracious manner. "How far away are you, sir?"

"About forty miles above. "

As he answered he happened to be glancing at the Boy, and observed hiseagerness cloud slightly. Hadn't Nicholas said it was "about fortymiles above" that the missionaries lived?

"But to be only forty miles away, " the stranger went on, misinterpreting the fading gladness, "is to be near neighbours in thiscountry. "

"We aren't quite fixed yet, " said the Colonel, "but you must come inand have some dinner with us. We can promise you a good fire, anyhow. "

"Thank you. You have chosen a fine site. " And the bright eyes with thedeep crow's-feet raying out from the corners scanned the country in sokeen and knowing a fashion that the Boy, with hope reviving, ventured:

"Are--are you a prospector?"

"No. I am Father Wills from Holy Cross. "

"Oh!" And the Boy presently caught up with the Indian, and walked onbeside him, looking back every now and then to watch the dogs orexamine the harness. The driver spoke English, and answered questionswith a tolerable intelligence. "Are dogs often driven without reins?"

The Indian nodded. 

The Colonel, after the stranger had introduced himself, was just ashade more reserved, but seemed determined not to be lacking inhospitality. O'Flynn was overflowing, or would have been had the Jesuitencouraged him. He told their story, or, more properly, his own, andhow they had been wrecked. 

"And so ye're the Father Superior up there?" says the Irishman, pausingto take breath. 

"No. Our Superior is Father Brachet. That's a well-built cabin!"

The dogs halted, though they had at least five hundred yards still totravel before they would reach the well-built cabin. 

"_Mush!_" shouted the Indian. 

The dogs cleared the ice-reef, and went spinning along so briskly overthe low hummocks that the driver had to run to keep up with them. 

The Boy was flying after when the priest, having caught sight of hisface, called out: "Here! Wait! Stop a moment!" and hurried forward. 

He kicked through the ice-crust, gathered up a handful of snow, andbegan to rub it on the Boy's right cheek. 

"What in the name of--" The Boy was drawing back angrily. 

"Keep still, " ordered the priest; "your cheek is frozen"; and heapplied more snow and more friction. "You ought to watch one another insuch weather as this. When a man turns dead-white like that, he'stouched with frost-bite. " After he had restored the circulation: "Therenow, don't go near the fire, or it will begin to hurt. "

"Thank you, " said the Boy, a little shame-faced. "It's all right now, Isuppose?"

"I think so, " said the priest. "You'll lose the skin, and you may be alittle sore--nothing to speak of, " with which he fell back to theColonel's side. 

The dogs had settled down into a jog-trot now, but were still well onin front. 

"Is 'mush' their food?" asked the Boy. 

"_Mush?_ No, fish. "

"Why does your Indian go on like that about mush, then?"

"Oh, that's the only word the dogs know, except--a--certain expressionswe try to discourage the Indians from using. In the old days thedog-drivers used to say 'mahsh. ' Now you never hear anything butswearing and 'mush, ' a corruption of the French-Canadian _marche_. " Heturned to the Colonel: "You'll get over trying to wear cheechalko bootshere--nothing like mucklucks with a wisp of straw inside for thiscountry. "

"I agree wid ye. I got me a pair in St. Michael's, " says O'Flynnproudly, turning out his enormous feet. "Never wore anything socomf'table in me life. "

"You ought to have drill parkis too, like this of mine, to keep out thewind. "

They were going up the slope now, obliquely to the cabin, close behindthe dogs, who were pulling spasmodically between their little rests. 

Father Wills stooped and gathered up some moss that the wind had sweptalmost bare of snow. "You see that?" he said to O'Flynn, while the Boystopped, and the Colonel hurried on. "Wherever you find that growing noman need starve. "

The Colonel looked back before entering the cabin and saw that the Boyseemed to have forgotten not alone the Indian, but the dogs, and waswalking behind with the Jesuit, face upturned, smiling, as friendly asyou please. 

Within a different picture. 

Potts and Mac were having a row about something, and the Colonel struckin sharply on their growling comments upon each other's character andprobable destination. 

"Got plenty to eat? Two hungry men coming in. One's an Indian, and youknow what that means, and the other's a Catholic priest. " It was thisbomb that he had hurried on to get exploded and done with before thesaid priest should appear on the scene. 

"A _what_?" Mac raised his heavy eyes with fight in every woodenfeature. 

"A Jesuit priest is what I said. "

"He won't eat his dinner here. "

"That is exactly what he will do. "

"Not by--" Whether it was the monstrous proposition that had unstrungMac, he was obliged to steady himself against the table with a shakinghand. But he set those square features of his like iron, and, says he, "No Jesuit sits down to the same table with me. "

"That means, then, that you'll eat alone. "

"Not if I know it. "

The Colonel slid in place the heavy wooden bar that had never beforebeen requisitioned to secure the door, and he came and stood in themiddle of the cabin, where he could let out all his inches. Justclearing the swing-shelf, he pulled his great figure up to its fullheight, and standing there like a second Goliath, he said quite softlyin that lingo of his childhood that always came back to his tongue'stip in times of excitement: "Just as shuah as yo' bohn that priest willeat his dinner to-day in my cabin, sah; and if yo' going t' make anytrouble, just say so now, and we'll get it ovah, and the place cleanedup again befoh our visitors arrive. "

"Mind what you're about, Mac, " growled Potts. "You know he could lickthe stuffin' out o' you. "

The ex-schoolmaster produced some sort of indignant sound in his throatand turned, as if he meant to go out. The Colonel came a little nearer. Mac flung up his head and squared for battle. 

Potts, in a cold sweat, dropped a lot of tinware with a rattle, whilethe Colonel said, "No, no. We'll settle this after the people go, Mac. "Then in a whisper: "Look here: I've been trying to shield you for tendays. Don't give yourself away now--before the first white neighbourthat comes to see us. You call yourself a Christian. Just see if youcan't behave like one, for an hour or two, to a fellow-creature that'scold and hungry. Come, _you're_ the man we've always counted on! Do thehonours, and take it out of me after our guests are gone. "

Mac seemed in a haze. He sat down heavily on some beanbags in thecorner; and when the newcomers were brought in and introduced, he "didthe honours" by glowering at them with red eyes, never breaking hissurly silence. 

"Well!" says Father Wills, looking about, "I must say you're verycomfortable here. If more people made homes like this, there'd be fewerfailures. " They gave him the best place by the fire, and Potts dishedup dinner. There were only two stools made yet. The Boy rolled hissection of sawed spruce over near the priest, and prepared to dine athis side. 

"No, no, " said Father Wills firmly. "You shall sit as far away fromthis splendid blaze as you can get, or you will have trouble with thatcheek. " So the Boy had to yield his place to O'Flynn, and join Mac overon the bean-bags. 

"Why didn't you get a parki when you were at St. Michael's?" said thepriest as this change was being effected. 

"We had just as much--more than we could carry. Besides, I thought wecould buy furs up river; anyway, I'm warm enough. "

"No you are not, " returned the priest smiling. "You must get a parkiwith a hood. "

"I've got an Arctic cap; it rolls down over my ears and goes all roundmy neck--just leaves a little place in front for my eyes. "

"Yes; wear that if you go on the trail; but the good of the parki hoodis, that it is trimmed all round with long wolf-hair. You see"--hepicked his parki up off the floor and showed it to the company--"thoselong hairs standing out all round the face break the force of the wind. It is wonderful how the Esquimaux hood lessens the chance offrost-bite. "

While the only object in the room that he didn't seem to see was Mac, he was most taken up with the fireplace. 

The Colonel laid great stress on the enormous services of thedelightful, accomplished master-mason over there on the beanbags, whosat looking more than ever like a monkey-wrench incarnate. 

But whether that Jesuit was as wily as the Calvinist thought, he hadquite wit enough to overlook the great chimney-builder's wrathfulsilence. 

He was not the least "professional, " talked about the country and howto live here, saying incidentally that he had spent twelve years at themission of the Holy Cross. The Yukon wasn't a bad place to live in, hetold them, if men only took the trouble to learn how to live here. While teaching the Indians, there was a great deal to learn from themas well. 

"You must all come and see our schools, " he wound up. 

"We'd like to awfully, " said the Boy, and all but Mac echoed him. "Wewere so afraid, " he went on, "that we mightn't see anybody all winterlong. "

"Oh, you'll have more visitors than you want. "

"_Shall_ we, though?" Then, with a modified rapture: "Indians, Isuppose, and--and missionaries. "

"Traders, too, and miners, and this year cheechalkos as well. You aredirectly on the great highway of winter travel. Now that there's a goodhard crust on the snow you will have dog-trains passing every week, andsometimes two or three. "

It was good news!

"We've already had one visitor before you, " said the Boy, lookingwonderfully pleased at the prospect the priest had opened out. "Youmust know Nicholas of Pymeut, don't you?"

"Oh yes; we all know Nicholas"; and the priest smiled. 

"We _like_ him, " returned the Boy as if some slighting criticism hadbeen passed upon his friend. 

"Of course you do; so do we all"; and still that look of quietamusement on the worn face and a keener twinkle glinting in the eyes. 

"We're afraid he's sick, " the Boy began. 

Before the priest could answer, "He was educated at Howly Cross, he_says_, " contributed O'Flynn. 

"Oh, he's been to Holy Cross, among other places. "

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Nicholas is a most impartial person. He was born at Pymeut, buthis father, who is the richest and most intelligent man in his tribe, took Nicholas to Ikogimeut when the boy was only six. He was brought upin the Russian mission there, as the father had been before him, andwas a Greek--in religion--till he was fourteen. There was a famine thatyear down yonder, so Nicholas turned Catholic and came up to us. He wasat Holy Cross some years, when business called him to Anvik, where heturned Episcopalian. At Eagle City, I believe, he is regarded as apattern Presbyterian. There are those that say, since he has been apilot, Nicholas makes six changes a trip in his religious convictions. "

Father Wills saw that the Colonel, to whom he most frequently addressedhimself, took his pleasantry gravely. "Nicholas is not a bad fellow, "he added. "He told me you had been kind to him. "

"If you believe that about his insincerity, " said the Colonel, "are younot afraid the others you spend your life teaching may turn out aslittle credit to you--to Christianity?"

The priest glanced at the listening Indian. "No, " said he gravely; "Ido not think _all_ the natives are like Nicholas. Andrew here is a trueson of the Church. But even if it were otherwise, _we_, you know"--theJesuit rose from the table with that calm smile of his--"we simply dothe work without question. The issue is not in our hands. " He made thesign of the cross and set back his stool. 

"Come, Andrew, " he said; "we must push on. "

The Indian repeated the priest's action, and went out to see to thedogs. 

"Oh, are you going right away?" said the Colonel politely, and O'Flynnvolubly protested. 

"We thought, " said the Boy, "you'd sit awhile and smoke and--at least, of course, I don't mean smoke exactly--but--"

The Father smiled and shook his head. 

"Another time I would stay gladly. "

"Where are you going now?"

"Andrew and I are on our way to the _Oklahoma_, the steamship frozen inthe ice below here. "

"How far?" asked the Boy. 

"About seven miles below the Russian mission, and a mile or so up theKuskoquim Slough. "

"Wrecked there?"

"Oh no. Gone into winter quarters. "

"In a slew?" for it was so Father Wills pronounced s-l-o-u-g-h. 

"Oh, that's what they call a blind river up in this country. They comeinto the big streams every here and there, and cheechalkos are alwaysmistaking them for the main channel. Sometimes they're wider and deeperfor a mile or so than the river proper, but before you know it theyland you in a marsh. This place I'm going to, a little way up theKuskoquim, out of danger when the ice breaks up, has been chosen for anew station by the N. A. T. And T. Company--rival, you know, to theold-established Alaska Commercial, that inherited the Russian furmonopoly and controlled the seal and salmon trade so long. Well, theyounger company runs the old one hard, and they've sent this steamerinto winter quarters loaded with provisions, ready to start for Dawsonthe instant the ice goes out. "

"Why, then, it's the very boat that'll be takin' us to the Klondyke. "

"You just goin' down to have a look at her?" asked Potts enviously. 

"No. I go to get relief for the Pymeuts. "

"What's the matter with 'em?"

"Epidemic all summer, starvation now. "

"Guess you won't find _any_body's got such a lot he wants to give itaway to the Indians. "

"Our Father Superior has given much, " said the priest gently; "but weare not inexhaustible at Holy Cross. And the long winter is before us. Many of the supply steamers have failed to get in, and the country isflooded with gold-seekers. There'll be wide-spread want thisyear--terrible suffering all up and down the river. "

"The more reason for people to hold on to what they've got. A whiteman's worth more 'n an Indian. "

The priest's face showed no anger, not even coldness. 

"White men have got a great deal out of Alaska and as yet done littlebut harm here. The government ought to help the natives, and we believethe Government will. All we ask of the captain of the _Oklahoma_ is tosell us, on fair terms, a certain supply, we assuming part of the risk, and both of us looking to the Government to make it good. "

"Reckon you'll find that steamer-load down in the ice is worth itsweight in gold, " said Potts. 

"One must always try, " replied the Father. 

He left the doorpost, straightened his bowed back, and laid a hand onthe wooden latch. 

"But Nicholas--when you left Pymeut was he--" began the Boy. 

"Oh, he is all right, " the Father smiled and nodded. "Brother Paul hasbeen looking after Nicholas's father. The old chief has enough food, but he has been very ill. By the way, have you any letters you want tosend out?"

"Oh, if we'd only known!" was the general chorus; and Potts flew toclose and stamp one he had hardly more than begun to the future Mrs. Potts. 

The Boy had thoughtlessly opened the door to have a look at the dogs. 

"Shut that da--Don't keep the door open!" howled Potts, trying to holdhis precious letter down on the table while he added "only two words. "The Boy slammed the door behind him. 

"With all our trouble, the cabin isn't really warm, " said the Colonelapologetically. "In a wind like this, if the door is open, we have tohold fast to things to keep them from running down the Yukon. It's atrial to anybody's temper. "

"Why don't you build a false wall?"

"Well, I don't know; we hadn't thought of it. "

"You'd find it correct this draught"; and the priest explained hisviews on the subject while Potts's letter was being addressed. Andrewput his head in. 

"Ready, Father!"

As the priest was pocketing the letter the Boy dashed in, put on theArctic cap he set such store by, and a fur coat and mittens. 

"Do you mind if I go a little way with you?" he said. 

"Of course not, " answered the priest. "I will send him back in half anhour, " he said low to the Colonel. "It's a hitter day. "

It was curious how already he had divined the relation of the elder manto the youngest of that odd household. 

The moment they had gone Mac, with an obvious effort, pulled himself upout of his corner, and, coming towards the Colonel at the fireplace, hesaid thickly:

"You've put an insult upon me, Warren, and that's what I stand from noman. Come outside. "

The Colonel looked at him. 

"All right, Mac; but we've just eaten a rousing big dinner. EvenSullivan wouldn't accept that as the moment for a round. We'll bothhave forty winks, hey? and Potts shall call us, and O'Flynn shall beumpire. You can have the Boy's bunk. "

Mac was in a haze again, and allowed himself to be insinuated into bed. 

The others got rid of the dinner things, and "sat round" for an hour. 

"Doubt if he sleeps long, " says Potts a little before two; "that's whathe's been doing all morning. "

"We haven't had any fresh meat for a week, " returns the Colonelsignificantly. "Why don't you and O'Flynn go down to meet the Boy, andcome round by the woods? There'll be full moon up by four o'clock; youmight get a brace of grouse or a rabbit or two. "

O'Flynn was not very keen about it; but the Jesuit's visit had stirredhim up, and he offered less opposition to the unusual call to activitythan the Colonel expected. 

When at last he was left alone with the sleeping man, the Kentuckianput on a couple more logs, and sat down to wait. At three he got up, swung the crane round so that the darting tongues of flame could lickthe hot-water pot, and then he measured out some coffee. In a quarterof an hour the cabin was full of the fragrance of good Mocha. 

The Colonel sat and waited. Presently he poured out a little coffee, and drank it slowly, blissfully, with half-closed eyes. But when he hadset the granite cup down again, he stood up alert, like a man ready forbusiness. Mac had been asleep nearly three hours. The others wouldn'tbe long now. 

Well, if they came prematurely, they must go to the Little Cabin forawhile. The Colonel shot the bar across door and jamb for the secondtime that day. Mac stirred and lifted himself on his elbow, but hewasn't really awake. 

"Potts, " he said huskily. 

The Colonel made no sound. "Potts, measure me out two fingers, willyou? Cabin's damn cold. "

No answer. 

Mac roused himself, muttering compliments for Potts. When he hadbundled himself out over the side of the bunk, he saw the Colonelseemingly dozing by the fire. 

He waited a moment. Then, very softly, he made his way to the fartherend of the swing-shelf. 

The Colonel opened one eye, shut it, and shuffled in a sleepy sort ofway. Mac turned sharply back to the fire. 

The Colonel opened his eyes and yawned. 

"I made some cawfee a little while back. Have some?"

"No. "

"Better; it's A 1. "

"Where's Potts?"

"Gone out for a little. Back soon. " He poured out some of the strong, black decoction, and presented it to his companion. "Just try it. Finest cawfee in the world, sir. "

Mac poured it down without seeming to bother about tasting it. 

They sat quite still after that, till the Colonel said meditatively:

"You and I had a little account to settle, didn't we?"

"I'm ready. "

But neither moved for several moments. 

"See here, Mac: you haven't been ill or anything like that, have you?"

"No. " There was no uncertain note in the answer; if anything, there wasin it more than the usual toneless decision. Mac's voice wasmachine-made--as innocent of modulation as a buzz-saw, and with thesame uncompromising finality as the shooting of a bolt. "I'm ready tostand up against any man. "

"Good!" interrupted the Colonel. "Glad o' that, for I'm just longing tosee you stand up--"

Mac was on his feet in a flash. 

"You had only to say so, if you wanted to see me stand up against anyman alive. And when I sit down again it's my opinion one of us twowon't be good-lookin' any more. "

He pushed back the stools. 

"I thought maybe it was only necessary to mention it, " said the Colonelslowly. "I've been wanting for a fortnight to see you stand up"--Macturned fiercely--"against Samuel David MacCann. "

"Come on! I'm in no mood for monkeyin'!"

"Nor I. I realise, MacCann, we've come to a kind of a crisis. Things inthis camp are either going a lot better, or a lot worse, after to-day. "

"There's nothing wrong, if you quit asking dirty Jesuits to sit downwith honest men. "

"Yes; there's something worse out o' shape than that. "

Mac waited warily. 

"When we were stranded here, and saw what we'd let ourselves in for, there wasn't one of us that didn't think things looked pretty much likethe last o' pea time. There was just one circumstance that kept us fromthrowing up the sponge; _we had a man in camp. "_

The Colonel paused. 

Mac stood as expressionless as the wooden crane. 

"A man we all believed in, who was going to help us pull through. ""That was you, I s'pose. " Mac's hard voice chopped out the sarcasm. 

"You know mighty well who it was. The Boy's all right, but he's youngfor this kind o' thing--young and heady. There isn't much wrong with methat I'm aware of, except that I don't know shucks. Potts's peteringout wasn't altogether a surprise, and nobody expected anything fromO'Flynn till we got to Dawson, when a lawyer and a fella with capitalbehind him may come in handy. But there was one man--who had a head onhim, who had experience, and who"--he leaned over to emphasise theclimax--"who had _character_. It was on that man's account that Ijoined this party. "

Mac put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. His facebegan to look a little more natural. The long sleep or the coffee hadcleared his eyes. 

"Shall I tell you what I heard about that man last night?" asked theColonel gravely. 

Mac looked up, but never opened his lips. 

"You remember you wouldn't sit here--"

"The Boy was always in and out. The cabin was cold. "

"I left the Boy and O'Flynn at supper-time and went down to the LittleCabin to--"

"To see what I was doin'--to spy on me. "

"Well, all right--maybe I was spying, too. Incidentally I wanted totell you the cabin was hot as blazes, and get you to come to supper. Imet Potts hurrying up for his grub, and I said, 'Where's Mac? Isn't hecoming?' and your pardner's answer was: 'Oh, let him alone. He's got aflask in his bunk, swillin' and gruntin'; he's just in hog-heaven. '"

"Damn that sneak!"

"The man he was talkin' about, Mac, was the man we had all built ourhopes on. "

"I'll teach Potts--"

"You can't, Mac. Potts has got to die and go to heaven--perhaps tohell, before he'll learn any good. But you're a different breed. TeachMacCann. "

Mac suddenly sat down on the stool with his head in his hands. 

"The Boy hasn't caught on, " said the Colonel presently, "but he saidsomething this morning to show he was wondering about the change that'scome over you. "

"That I don't split wood all day, I suppose, when we've got enough fora month. Potts doesn't either. Why don't you go for Potts?"

"As the Boy said, I don't care about Potts. It's Mac that matters. "

"Did the Boy say that?" He looked up. 

The Colonel nodded. 

"After you had made that chimney, you know, you were a kind of hero inhis eyes. "

Mac looked away. "The cabin's been cold, " he muttered. 

"We are going to remedy that. "

"I didn't bring any liquor into camp. You must admit that I didn'tintend--"

"I do admit it. "

"And when O'Flynn said that about keeping his big demijohn out of theinventory and apart from the common stores, I sat on him. "

"So you did. "

"I knew it was safest to act on the 'medicinal purposes' principle. "

"So it is. "

"But I wasn't thinking so much of O'Flynn. I was thinking of ... Thingsthat had happened before ... For ... I'd had experience. Drink was thecurse of Caribou. It's something of a scourge up in Nova Scotia ... I'dhad experience. "

"You did the very best thing possible under the circumstances. " Mac wasfeeling about after his self-respect, and must be helped to get hold ofit. "I realise, too, that the temptation is much greater in coldcountries, " said the Kentuckian unblushingly. "Italians and Greeksdon't want fiery drinks half as much as Russians andScandinavians--haven't the same craving as Nova Scotians andcold-country people generally, I suppose. But that only shows, temperance is of more vital importance in the North. "

"That's right! It's not much in my line to shift blame, even when Idon't deserve it; but you know so much you might as well know ... Itwasn't I who opened that demijohn first. "

"But you don't mind being the one to shut it up--do you?"

"Shut it up?"

"Yes; let's get it down and--" The Colonel swung it off the shelf. Itwas nearly empty, and only the Boy's and the Colonel's single bottlesstood unbroached. Even so, Mac's prolonged spree was something of amystery to the Kentuckian. It must be that a very little was too muchfor Mac. The Colonel handed the demijohn to his companion, and lit thesolitary candle standing on its little block of wood, held in placebetween three half-driven nails. 

"What's that for?"

"Don't you want to seal it up?"

"I haven't got any wax. "

"I have an inch or so. " The Colonel produced out of his pocket the onlypiece in camp. 

Mac picked up a billet of wood, and drove the cork in flush with theneck. Then, placing upright on the cork the helve of the hammer, hedrove the cork down a quarter of an inch farther. 

"Give me your wax. What's for a seal?" They looked about. Mac's eyefell on a metal button that hung by a thread from the old militiajacket he was wearing. He put his hand up to it, paused, glancedhurriedly at the Colonel, and let his fingers fall. 

"Yes, yes, " said the Kentuckian, "that'll make a capital seal. "

"No; something of yours, I think, Colonel. The top of that tonypencil-case, hey?"

The Colonel produced his gold pencil, watched Mac heat the wax, drop itinto the neck of the demijohn, and apply the initialled end of theColonel's property. While Mac, without any further waste of words, wasswinging the wicker-bound temptation up on the shelf again, they heardvoices. 

"They're coming back, " says the Kentuckian hurriedly. "But we'vesettled our little account, haven't we, old man?"

Mac jerked his head in that automatic fashion that with him meantgenial and whole-hearted agreement. 

"And if Potts or O'Flynn want to break that seal--"

"I'll call 'em down, " says Mac. And the Colonel knew the seal was safe. 

 * * * * *

"By-the-by, Colonel, " said the Boy, just as he was turning in thatnight, "I--a--I've asked that Jesuit chap to the House-Warming. "

"Oh, you did, did you?"

"Yes. "

"Well, you'd just better have a talk with Mac about it. "

"Yes. I've been tryin' to think how I'd square Mac. Of course, I knowI'll have to go easy on the raw. "

"I reckon you just will. "

"If Monkey-wrench screws down hard on me, you'll come to the rescue, won't you, Colonel?"

"No I'll side with Mac on that subject. Whatever he says, goes!"

"Humph! _that_ Jesuit's all right. "

Not a word out of the Colonel. 

CHAPTER III

TWO NEW SPISSIMENS

Medwjedew (zu Luka). Tag' mal--wer bist du? Ichkenne dich nicht. 

Luka. Kennst du denn sonst alle Leute?

Medwjedew. In meinem Revier muß ich jeden kennen und dich kenn'ichnicht.... 

Luka. Das kommt wohl daher Onkelchen, daß dein Revier nicht die ganzeErde umfasst ... 's ist da noch ein Endchen draußen geblieben.... 

One of the curious results of what is called wild life, is a blessedrelease from many of the timidities that assail the easy liver in thecentres of civilisation. Potts was the only one in the white camp whohad doubts about the wisdom of having to do with the natives. 

However, the agreeable necessity of going to Pymeut to invite Nicholasto the Blow-out was not forced upon the Boy. They were still hard atit, four days after the Jesuit had gone his way, surrounding the BigCabin with a false wall, that final and effectual barrier againstBoreas--finishing touch warranted to convert a cabin, so cold that itdrove its inmates to drink, into a dwelling where practical people, without cracking a dreary joke, might fitly celebrate a House-Warming. 

In spite of the shortness of the days, Father Wills's suggestion wasbeing carried out with a gratifying success. Already manifest were theadvantages of the stockade, running at a foot's distance round thecabin to the height of the eaves, made of spruce saplings not evenlopped of their short bushy branches, but planted close together, afterburning the ground cleared of snow. A second visitation of mildweather, and a further two days' thaw, made the Colonel determine tofill in the space between the spruce stockade and the cabin with"burnt-out" soil closely packed down and well tramped in. It wasgenerally conceded, as the winter wore on, that to this contrivance ofthe "earthwork" belonged a good half of the credit of the Big Cabin, and its renown as being the warmest spot on the lower river thatterrible memorable year of the Klondyke Rush. 

The evergreen wall with the big stone chimney shouldering itself up tolook out upon the frozen highway, became a conspicuous feature in thelandscape, welcome as the weeks went on to many an eye wearied withlong looking for shelter, and blinded by the snow-whitened waste. 

An exception to what became a rule was, of all men, Nicholas. When thestockade was half done, the Prince and an equerry appeared on thehorizon, with the second team the camp had seen, the driver muchconcerned to steer clear of the softened snow and keep to that part ofthe river ice windswept and firm, if roughest of all. Nicholas regardedthe stockade with a cold and beady eye. 

No, he hadn't time to look at it. He had promised to "mush. " He wasn'teven hungry. 

It did little credit to his heart, but he seemed more in haste to leavehis new friends than the least friendly of them would have expected. 

"Oh, wait a sec. , " urged the deeply disappointed Boy. "I wanted awf'lyto see how your sled is made. It's better 'n Father Wills'. "

"Humph!" grunted Nicholas scornfully; "him no got Innuit sled. "

"Mac and I are goin' to try soon's the stockade's done--"

"Goo'-bye, " interrupted Nicholas. 

But the Boy paid no attention to the word of farewell. He knelt down inthe snow and examined the sled carefully. 

"Spruce runners, " he called out to Mac, "and--jee! they're shod withivory! _Jee!_ fastened with sinew and wooden pegs. Hey?"--looking upincredulously at Nicholas--"not a nail in the whole shebang, eh?"

"Nail?" says Nicholas. "Huh, no _nail!_" as contemptuously as thoughthe Boy had said "bread-crumbs. "

"Well, she's a daisy! When you comin' back?"

"Comin' pretty quick; goin' pretty quick. Goo'-bye! _Mush!_" shoutedNicholas to his companion, and the dogs got up off their haunches. 

But the Boy only laughed at Nicholas's struggles to get started. Hehung on to the loaded sled, examining, praising, while the dogs, afterthe merest affectation of trying to make a start, looked round at himover their loose collars and grinned contentedly. 

"Me got to mush. Show nex' time. Mush!"

"What's here?" the Boy shouted through the "mushing"; and he tugged atthe goodly load, so neatly disposed under an old reindeer-skinsleeping-bag, and lashed down with raw hide. 

That? Oh, that was fish. _"Fish!_ Got so much fish at starving Pymeutyou can go hauling it down river? Well, sir, _we_ want fish. We _must_have fish. Hey?" The Boy appealed to the others. 

"Yes. "

"R-right y'arre!"

"I reckon we just do!"

But Nicholas had other views. 

"No, me take him--" He hitched his body in the direction of Ikogimeut. 

"Bless my soul! you've got enough there for a regiment. You goin' tosell him? Hey?"

Nicholas shook his head. 

"Oh, come off the roof!" advised the Boy genially. 

"You ain't carryin' it about for your health, I suppose?" said Potts. 

"The people down at Ikogimeut don't need it like us. We're whiteduffers, and can't get fish through the ice. You sell _some_ of it tous. " But Nicholas shook his head and shuffled along on his snow-shoes, beckoning the dog-driver to follow. 

"Or trade some fur--fur tay, " suggested O'Flynn. 

"Or for sugar, " said Mac. 

"Or for tobacco, " tempted the Colonel. 

And before that last word Nicholas's resolve went down. Up at the cabinhe unlashed the load, and it quickly became manifest that Nicholas wasa dandy at driving a bargain. He kept on saying shamelessly:

"More--more shuhg. Hey? Oh yes, me give heap fish. No nuff shuhg. "

If it hadn't been for Mac (his own clear-headed self again, and by nomeans to be humbugged by any Prince alive) the purchase of a portion ofthat load of frozen fish, corded up like so much wood, would have laidwaste the commissariat. 

But if the white men after this passage did not feel an absoluteconfidence in Nicholas's fairness of mind, no such unworthy suspicionof them found lodgment in the bosom of the Prince. With the exceptionof some tobacco, he left all his ill-gotten store to be kept for him byhis new friends till he should return. When was that to be? In fivesleeps he would be back. 

"Good! We'll have the stockade done by then. What do you say to our bigchimney, Nicholas?"

He emitted a scornful "Peeluck!"

"What! Our chimney no good?"

He shrugged: "Why you have so tall hole your house? How you cover himup?"

"We don't want to cover him up. "

"Humph! winter fin' you tall hole. Winter come down--bring insnow--drive fire out. " He shivered in anticipation of what was tohappen. "Peeluck!"

The white men laughed. 

"What you up to now? Where you going?"

Well, the fact was, Nicholas had been sent by his great ally, theFather Superior of Holy Cross, on a mission, very important, demandingdespatch. 

"Father Brachet--him know him heap better send Nicholas when him wantman go God-damn quick. Me no stop--no--no stop. "

He drew on his mittens proudly, unjarred by remembrance of how his goodresolution had come to grief. 

"Where you off to now?"

"Me ketchum Father Wills--me give letter. " He tapped hisdeerskin-covered chest. "Ketchum _sure_ 'fore him leave Ikogimeut. "

"You come back with Father Wills?"

Nicholas nodded. 

"Hooray! we'll all work like sixty!" shouted the Boy, "and by Saturday(that's five sleeps) we'll have the wall done and the house warm, andyou and"--he caught himself up; not thus in public would he break thenews to Mac--"you'll be back in time for the big Blow-Out. " To clinchmatters, he accompanied Nicholas from the cabin to the river trail, explaining: "You savvy? Big feast--all same Indian. Heap good grub. Noprayer-meetin'--you savvy?--no church this time. Big fire, big feed. All kinds--apples, shuhg, bacon--no cook him, you no like, " he added, basely truckling to the Prince's peculiar taste. 

Nicholas rolled his single eye in joyful anticipation, and promisedfaithfully to grace the scene. 

 * * * * *

This was all very fine ... But Father Wills! The last thing at nightand the first thing in the morning the Boy looked the problem in theface, and devised now this, now that, adroit and disarming fashion ofbreaking the news to Mac. 

But it was only when the daring giver of invitations was safely in bed, and Mac equally safe down in the Little Cabin, that it seemed possibleto broach the subject. He devised scenes in which, airily andtriumphantly, he introduced Father Wills, and brought Mac to the pointof pining for Jesuit society; but these scenes were actable only underconditions of darkness and of solitude. The Colonel refused to haveanything to do with the matter. 

"Our first business, as I see it, is to keep peace in the camp, andhold fast to a good understanding with one another. It's just overlittle things like this that trouble begins. Mac's one of us; FatherWills is an outsider. I won't rile Mac for the sake of any Jesuitalive. No, sir; this is _your_ funeral, and you're obliged to attend. "

Before three of Nicholas's five sleeps were accomplished, the Boy beganto curse the hour he had laid eyes on Father Wills. He began even tospeculate desperately on the good priest's chances of tumbling into anair-hole, or being devoured by a timely wolf. But no, life was never soconsiderate as that. Yet he could neither face being the cause of thefirst serious row in camp, nor endure the thought of having hisparticular guest--drat him!--flouted, and the whole House-Warmingturned to failure and humiliation. 

Indeed, the case looked desperate. Only one day more now before hewould appear--be flouted, insulted, and go off wounded, angry, leavingthe Boy with an irreconciliable quarrel against Mac, and theHouse-Warming turned to chill recrimination and to wretchedness. 

But until the last phantasmal hope went down before the logic of eventsit was impossible not to cling to the idea of melting Mac's Arcticheart. There was still one course untried. 

Since there was so little left to do to the stockade, the Boy announcedthat he thought he'd go up over the hill for a tramp. Gun in hand andgrub in pocket, he marched off to play his last trump-card. If he couldbring home a queer enough bird or beast for the collection, there wasstill hope. To what lengths might Mac not go if one dangled before himthe priceless bait of a golden-tipped emperor goose, dressed inimperial robes of rose-flecked snow? Or who, knowing Mac, would nottrust a _Xema Sabinii_ to play the part of a white-winged angel ofpeace? Failing some such heavenly messenger, there was nothing for itbut that the Boy should face the ignominy of going forth to meet theFather on the morrow, and confess the humiliating truth. It wasn't fairto let him come expecting hospitality, and find--. Visions arose of Macreceiving the bent and wayworn missionary with the greeting: "There isno corner by the fire, no place in the camp for a pander to the ScarletWoman. " The thought lent impassioned fervour to the quest for goose orgull. 

It was pretty late when he got back to camp, and the men were atsupper. No, he hadn't shot anything. 

"What's that bulging in your pocket?"

"Sort o' stone. "

"Struck it rich?"

"Don't give me any chin-music, boys; give me tea. I'm dog-tired. "

But when Mac got up first, as usual, to go down to the Little Cabin to"wood up" for the night, "I'll walk down with you, " says the Boy, though it was plain he was dead-beat. 

He helped to revive the failing fire, and then, dropping on the sectionof sawed wood that did duty for a chair, with some difficulty and adeal of tugging he pulled "the sort o' stone" out of the pocket of hisduck shooting-jacket. 

"See that?" He held the thing tightly clasped in his two red, chappedhands. 

Mac bent down, shading his eyes from the faint flame flicker. 

"What is it?" "Piece o' tooth. "

"By the Lord Harry! so it is. " He took the thing nearer the faintlight. "Fossil! Where'd you get it?"

"Over yonder--by a little frozen river. "

"How far? Any more? Only this?"

The Boy didn't answer. He went outside, and returned instantly, luggingin something brown and whitish, weather-stained, unwieldy. 

"I dropped this at the door as I came along home. Thought it might dofor the collection. "

Mac stared with all his eyes, and hurriedly lit a candle. The Boydropped exhausted on a ragged bit of burlap by the bunks. Mac kneltdown opposite, pouring liberal libation of candle-grease on theuncouth, bony mass between them. 

"Part of the skull!" he rasped out, masking his ecstasy as well as hecould. 

"Mastodon?" inquired the Boy. 

Mac shook his head. 

"I'll bet my boots, " says Mac, "it's an _Elephas primigenius;_ and ifI'm right, it's 'a find, ' young man. Where'd you stumble on him?"

"Over yonder. " The Boy leaned his head against the lower bunk. 

"Where?" "Across the divide. The bones have been dragged up on to somerocks. I saw the end of a tusk stickin' up out of the snow, and Iscratched down till I found--" He indicated the trophy between them onthe floor. 

"Tusk? How long?"

"'Bout nine feet. " "We'll go and get it to-morrow. "

No answer from the Boy. 

"Early, hey?"

"Well--a--it's a good ways. "

"What if it is?"

"Oh, I don't mind. I'd do more 'n that for you, Mac. "

There was something unnatural in such devotion. Mac looked up. But theBoy was too tired to play the big fish any longer. "I wonder if you'lldo something for me. " He watched with a sinking heart Mac's sharpuprising from the worshipful attitude. It was not like any othermortal's gradual, many-jointed getting-up; it was more like the suddenspringing out of the big blade of a clasp-knife. 

"What's your game?"

"Oh, I ain't got any game, " said the Boy desperately; "or, if I have, there's mighty little fun in it. However, I don't know as I want towalk ten hours again in this kind o' weather with an elephant on myback just for--for the poetry o' the thing. " He laid his chapped handson the side board of the bunk and pulled himself up on his legs. 

"What's your game?" repeated Mac sternly, as the Boy reached the door. 

"What's the good o' talkin'?" he answered; but he paused, turned, andleaned heavily against the rude lintel. 

"Course, I know you'd be shot before you'd do it, but what I'd _like_, would be to hear you say you wouldn't kick up a hell of a row if FatherWills happens in to the House-Warmin'. "

Mac jerked his set face, fire-reddened, towards the fossil-finder; andhe, without waiting for more, simply opened the door, and heavilyfooted it back to the Big Cabin. 

 * * * * *

Next morning when Mac came to breakfast he heard that the Boy had hadhis grub half an hour before the usual time, and was gone off on sometramp again. Mac sat and mused. 

O'Flynn came in with a dripping bucket, and sat down to breakfastshivering. 

"Which way'd he go?"

"The Boy? Down river. "

"Sure he didn't go over the divide?"

O'Flynn was sure. He'd just been down to the water-hole, and in thefaint light he'd seen the Boy far down on the river-trail "leppin" likea hare in the direction of the Roosian mission. "

"Goin' to meet ... A ... Nicholas?"

"Reckon so, " said the Colonel, a bit ruffled. "Don't believe he'll runlike a hare very far with his feet all blistered. "

"Did you know he'd discovered a fossil elephant?"

"No. "

"Well, he has. I must light out, too, and have a look at it. "

"Do; it'll be a cheerful sort of House-Warming with one of you offscouring the country for more blisters and chilblains, and anotherhuntin' antediluvian elephants. " The Colonel spoke with uncommonirascibility. The great feast-day had certainly not dawnedpropitiously. 

When breakfast was done Mac left the Big Cabin without a word; but, instead of going over the divide across the treeless snow-waste to thelittle frozen river, where, turned up to the pale northern dawn, werelying the bones of a beast that had trampled tropic forests, in thatother dawn of the Prime, the naturalist, turning his back on _Elephasprimigenius, _ followed in the track of the Boy down the great rivertowards Ikogimeut. 

 * * * * *

On the low left bank of the Yukon a little camp. On one side, a bigrock hooded with snow. At right angles, drawn up one on top of theother, two sleds covered with reindeer-skins held down by stones. Inthe corner formed by the angle of rocks and sleds, a small A-tent, verystained and old. Burning before it on a hearth of greenwood, a littlefire struggling with a veering wind. 

Mac had seen from far off the faint blue banners of smoke blowing nowright, now left, then tossed aloft in the pallid sunshine. He lookedabout sharply for the Boy, as he had been doing this two hours. Therewas the Jesuit bending over the fire, bettering the precarious positionof a saucepan that insisted on sitting lop-sided, looking down into theheart of coals. Nicholas was holding up the tent-flap. 

"Hello! How do!" he sang out, recognising Mac. The priest glanced upand nodded pleasantly. Two Indians, squatting on the other side of thefire, scrambled away as the shifting wind brought a cloud of stiflingsmoke into their faces. "Where's the Boy?" demanded Mac, arresting thestampede. 

Nicholas's dog-driver stared, winked, and wiped his weeping, smoke-reddened eyes. 

"Is he in there?" Mac looked towards the tent. 

Andrew nodded between coughs. 

"What's he doing in there? Call him out, " ordered Mac. 

"He no walk. "

Mac's hard face took on a look of cast-iron tragedy. 

The wind, veering round again, had brought the last words to the prieston the other side of the fire. 

"Oh, it'll be all right by-and-by, " he said cheerfully. 

"But knocking up like that just for blisters?"

"Blisters? No; cold and general weakness. That's why we delayed--"

Without waiting to hear more Mac strode over to the tent, and as hewent in, Nicholas came out. No sign of the Boy--nobody, nothing. What?Down in the corner a small, yellow face lying in a nest of fur. Bright, dark eyes stared roundly, and as Mac glowered astonished at theapparition, a mouth full of gleaming teeth opened, smiling, to say in avery small voice:

"Farva!"

Astonished as Mac was, disappointed and relieved all at once, there wassomething arresting in the appeal. 

"I'm not your father, " he said stiffly. "Who're you? Hey? You speakEnglish?"

The child stared at him fixedly, but suddenly, for no reason on earth, it smiled again. Mac stood looking down at it, seeming lost in thought. Presently the small object stirred, struggled about feebly under theencompassing furs, and, freeing itself, held out its arms. The mites ofhands fluttered at his sleeve and made ineffectual clutches. 

"What do you want?" To his own vast astonishment Mac lifted the littlething out of its warm nest. It was woefully thin, and seemed, even tohis inexperience, to be insufficiently clothed, though the beadedmoccasins on its tiny feet were new and good. 

"Why, you're only about as big as a minute, " he said gruffly. "What'sthe matter--sick?" It suddenly struck him as very extraordinary that heshould have taken up the child, and how extremely embarrassing it wouldbe if anyone came in and caught him. Clutching the small morselawkwardly, he fumbled with the furs preparatory to getting rid, withoutdelay, of the unusual burden. While he was straightening the things, Father Wills appeared at the flap, smoking saucepan in hand. Theinstant the cold air struck the child it began to cough. 

"Oh, you mustn't do that!" said the priest to Mac with unexpectedseverity. "Kaviak must lie in bed and keep warm. " Down on the floorwent the saucepan. The child was caught away from the surprised Mac, and the furs so closely gathered round the small shrunken body thatthere was once more nothing visible but the wistful yellow face andgleaming eyes, still turned searchingly on its most recentacquaintance. 

But the priest, without so much as a glance at the new-comer, proceededto feed Kaviak out of the saucepan, blowing vigorously at each spoonfulbefore administering. 

"He's pretty hungry, " commented Mac. "Where'd you find him?"

"In a little village up on the Kuskoquim. Kaviak's an Esquimaux fromNorton Sound, aren't you, Kaviak?" But the child was wholly absorbed, it seemed, in swallowing and staring at Mac. "His family came up therefrom the coast in a bidarra only last summer--all dead now. Everybodyelse in the village--and there isn't but a handful--all ailing and allhungry. I was tramping across an igloo there a couple of days ago, andI heard a strange little muffled sound, more like a snared rabbit thananything else. But the Indian with me said no, everybody who had livedthere was dead, and he was for hurrying on. They're superstitious, youknow, about a place where people have died. But I crawled in, and foundthis little thing lying in a bundle of rags with its hands bound anddried grass stuffed in its mouth. It was too weak to stir or do morethan occasionally to make that muffled noise that I'd heard coming upthrough the smoke-hole. "

"What you goin' to do with him?"

"Well, I hardly know. The Sisters will look after him for a while, if Iget him there alive. "

"Why shouldn't you?"

Kaviak supplied the answer straightway by choking and falling into anappalling fit of coughing. 

"I've got some stuff that'll be good for that, " said Mac, thinking ofhis medicine-chest. "I'll give you some when we get back to camp. "

The priest nodded, taking Mac's unheard of civility as a matter ofcourse. 

"The ice is very rough; the jolting makes him cough awfully. "

The Jesuit had fastened his eyes on Mac's woollen muffler, which hadbeen loosened during the ministering to Kaviak and had dropped on theground. "Do you need that scarf?" he asked, as though he suspected Macof wearing it for show. "Because if you didn't you could wrap it roundKaviak while I help the men strike camp. " And without waiting to seehow his suggestion was received, he caught up the saucepan, lifted theflap, and vanished. 

"Farva, " remarked Kaviak, fixing melancholy eyes on Mac. 

"I ain't your father, " muttered the gentleman so addressed. He pickedup his scarf and hung it round his own neck. 

"Farva!" insisted Kaviak. They looked at each other. 

"You cold? That it, hey?" Mac knelt down and pulled away the furs. "Godbless me! you only got this one rag on? God bless me!" He pulled offhis muffler and wound the child in it mummy-wise, round and round, muttering the while in a surly way. When it was half done hestopped--thought profoundly with a furrow cutting deep into his squareforehead between the straight brows. Slowly he pulled his gloves out ofhis pocket, and turned out from each beaver gauntlet an inner mitten ofknitted wool. "Here, " he said, and put both little moccasined feet intoone of the capacious mittens. Much pleased with his ingenuity, he wenton winding the long scarf until the yellow little Esquimaux bore acertain whimsical resemblance to one of the adorable Delia Robbiainfants. But Mac's sinewy hands were exerting a greater pressure thanhe realized. The morsel made a remonstrant squeaking, and squirmedfeebly. 

"Oh, oh! Too tight? Beg your pardon, " said Mac hastily, as though notonly English, but punctilious manners were understanded of Kaviak. Herelaxed the woollen bandage till the morsel lay contented again withinits folds. 

Nicholas came in for Kaviak, and for the furs, that he might pack themboth in the Father's sled. Already the true son of the Church wasundoing the ropes that lashed firm the canvas of the tent. 

"Where's the Boy?" said Mac suddenly. "The young fellow that's with us. You know, the one that found you that first Sunday and brought you tocamp. Where is he?"

Nicholas paused an instant with Kaviak on his shoulder. 

"Kaiomi--no savvy. "

"You not seen him to-day?"

"No. He no up--?" With the swaddled child he made a gesture up theriver towards the white camp. 

"No, he came down this morning to meet you. "

Nicholas shook his head, and went on gathering up the furs. As he andMac came out, Andrew was undoing the last fastening that held thecanvas to the stakes. In ten minutes they were on the trail, Andrewleading, with Father Wills' dogs, Kaviak lying in the sled muffled tothe eyes, still looking round out of the corners--no, strangely enough, the Kaviak eye had no corners, but fixedly he stared sideways at Mac. "Farva, " seeming not to take the smallest notice, trudged along on oneside of him, the priest on the other, and behind came Nicholas and theother Indians with the second sled. It was too windy to talk much evenhad they been inclined. 

The only sounds were the _Mush! Mush!_ of the drivers, the grate andswish of the runners over the ice, and Kaviak's coughing. 

Mac turned once and frowned at him. It was curious that the childseemed not to mind these menacing looks, not in the smallest degree. 

By-and-by the order of march was disturbed. 

Kaviak's right runner, catching at some obstacle, swerved and sent thesled bumping along on its side, the small head of the passengernarrowly escaping the ice. Mac caught hold of the single-tree andbrought the racing dogs to an abrupt halt. The priest and he rightedthe sled, and Mac straddling it, tucked in a loosened end of fur. Whenall was again in running order, Mac was on the same side as FatherWills. He still wore that look of dour ill-temper, and especially didhe glower at the unfortunate Kaviak, seized with a fresh fit ofcoughing that filled the round eyes with tears. 

"Don't you get kind o' tired listenin' to that noise? Suppose I was tocarry--just for a bit--. This is the roughest place on the trail. Hi!Stop!" he called to Andrew. The priest had said nothing; but diviningwhat Mac would be at, he helped him to undo the raw-hide lashing, andwhen Kaviak was withdrawn he wrapped one of the lighter fur thingsround him. 

It was only when Mac had marched off, glowering still, and sternlyrefusing to meet Kaviak's tearful but grateful eyes--it was only then, bending over the sled and making fast the furs, that Father Wills, allto himself, smiled a little. 

It wasn't until they were in sight of the smoke from the Little Cabinthat Mac slackened his pace. He had never for a moment found the trailso smooth that he could return his burden to the sled. Now, however, heallowed Nicholas and the priest to catch up with him. 

"You carry him the rest of the way, " he commanded, and set his burdenin Nicholas's arms. Kaviak was ill-pleased, but Mac, falling behindwith the priest, stalked on with eyes upon the ground. 

"I've got a boy of my own, " he jerked out presently, with the air of aman who accounts confidentially for some weakness. 

"Really!" returned the priest; "they didn't tell me. "

"I haven't told them yet. "

"Oh, all right. "

"Why is he called that heathen name?"

"Kaviak? Oh, it's the name of his tribe. His people belong to thatbranch of the Innuits known as Kaviaks. "

"Humph! Then he's only Kaviak as I'm MacCann. I suppose you'vechristened him?"

"Well, not yet--no. What shall we call him? What's your boy's name?""Robert Bruce. " They went on in silence till Mac said, "It's on accountof my boy I came up here. "

"Oh!"

"It didn't use to matter if a man _was_ poor and self-taught, but inthese days of competition it's different. A boy must have chances ifhe's going to fight the battle on equal terms. Of course, some boysain't worth botherin' about. But my boy--well, he seems to havesomething in him. "

The priest listened silently, but with that look of brotherliness onhis face that made it so easy to talk to him. 

"It doesn't really matter to those other fellows. " Mac jerked his handtowards the camp. "It's never so important to men--who stand alone--butI've _got_ to strike it rich over yonder. " He lifted his head, andfrowned defiantly in the general direction of the Klondyke, thirteenhundred miles away. "It's my one chance, " he added half to himself. "Itmeans everything to Bob and me. Education, scientific education, costslike thunder. "

"In the United States?"

"Oh, I mean to send my boy to the old country. I want Bob to bethorough. "

The priest smiled, but almost imperceptibly. 

"How old is he?"

"Oh, 'bout as old as this youngster. " Mac spoke with calculatedindifference. 

"Six or thereabouts?"

"No; four and a half. But he's bigger--"

"Of course. "

"And you can see already--he's got a lot in him. "

Father Wills nodded with a conviction that brought Mac nearerconfession than he had ever been in his life. 

"You see, " he said quite low, and as if the words were dragged out withpincers, "the fact is--my married life--didn't pan out very well. AndI--ran away from home as a little chap--after a lickin'--and never wentback. But there's one thing I mean to make a success of--that's myboy. "

"Well, I believe you will, if you feel like that. "

"Why, they've gone clean past the camp trail, " said Mac sharply, "allbut Nicholas--and what in thunder?--he's put the kid back on thesled--"

"Yes, I told my men we'd be getting on. But they were told to leave youthe venison--"

"What! You goin' straight on? Nonsense!" Mac interrupted, and began toshout to the Indians. 

"No; I _meant_ to stop; just tell your friends so, " said theunsuspecting Father; "but with a sick child--"

"What can you do for him that we can't? And to break the journey maymake a big difference. We've got some condensed milk left--and--"

"Ah yes, but we are more accustomed to--it's hardly fair to burden aneighbour. No, we'll be getting on. "

"If those fellers up there make a row about your bringing in ayoungster"--he thrust out his jaw--"they can settle the account withme. I've got to do something for that cough before the kid goes on. "

"Well, " said the priest; and so wily are these Jesuits that he neveronce mentioned that he was himself a qualified doctor in full andregular practice. He kept his eyes on the finished stockade and thegreat chimney, wearing majestically its floating plume of smoke. 

"Hi!" Mac called between his hands to the Indians, who had gone somedistance ahead. "Hi!" He motioned them back up the hill trail. 

O'Flynn had come out of the Little Cabin, and seemed to be laboriouslytrundling something along the footpath. He got so excited when he heardthe noise and saw the party that, inadvertently, he let his burdenslide down the icy slope, bumping and bouncing clumsily from oneimpediment to another. 

"Faith, look at 'im! Sure, that fossle can't resthrain his j'y atseein' ye back. Mac, it's yer elephunt. I was takin' him in to the sateof honour be the foir. We thought it 'ud be a pleasant surprise fur ye. Sure, ye'r more surprised to see 'im leppin' down the hill to meet ye, like a rale Irish tarrier. "

Mac was angry, and didn't conceal the fact. As he ran to stop the thingbefore it should be dashed to pieces, the priest happened to glanceback, and saw coming slowly along the river trail a solitary figurethat seemed to make its way with difficulty. 

"It looks as though you'd have more than you bargained for at theHouse-Warming, " he said. 

O'Flynn came down the hill babbling like a brook. 

"Good-day to ye, Father. The blessin's o' Heaven on ye fur not kapin'us starvin' anny longer. There's Potts been swearin', be this and bethat, that yourself and the little divvle wudn't be at the Blow-Out atahl, at ahl. "

"You mean the Boy hasn't come back?" called out Mac. He leaned _Elephasprimigenius_ against a tuft of willow banked round with snow, andturned gloomily as if to go back down the river again. 

"Who's this?" They all stood and watched the limping traveller. 

"Why it's--of course. I didn't know him with that thing tied over hiscap"; and Mac went to meet him. 

The Boy bettered his pace. 

"How did I miss you?" demanded Mac. 

"Well, " said the Boy, looking rather mischievous, "I can't think how ithappened on the way down, unless you passed when I 'd gone uphill apiece after some tracks. I was lyin' under the Muff a few miles downwhen you came back, and you--well, I kind o' thought you seemed to haveyour hands full. " Mac looked rigid and don't-you-try-to-chaff-me-sir. "Besides, " the Boy went on, "I couldn't cover the ground like you andFather Wills. "

"What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothin' to howl about. But see here, Mac. "

"Well?"

"Soon's I can walk I'll go and get you the rest o' that elephant. "

There was no more said till they got up to the others, who had waitedfor the Indians to come back, and had unpacked Kaviak to spare him thejolting uphill. 

O'Flynn was screaming with excitement as he saw that the bundleNicholas was carrying had a head and two round eyes. 

"The saints in glory be among us! What's that? Man alive, what _is_ it, be the Siven?"

"That, " answered Mac with a proprietary air, "is a little Esquimauxboy, and I'm bringing him in to doctor his cold. "

"Glory be! An Esquimer! And wid a cowld! Sure, he can have some o' mylinnyeemint. Well, y'arre a boss collector, Mac! Faith, ye bang theJews! And me thinkin' ye'd be satisfied wid yer elephunt. Not him, bethe Siven! It's an Esquimer he must have to finish off his collection, wan wid the rale Arctic cowld in his head, and two eyes that goessnappin' through ye like black torpeders. Two spissimens in wan day!Yer growin' exthravagant, Mac. Why, musha, child, if I don't think yerthe dandy Spissimen o' the lot!"

CHAPTER IV

THE BLOW-OUT

"How good it is to invite men to the pleasant feast. "

Comfortable as rock fireplace and stockade made the cabin now, theColonel had been feeling all that morning that the officialHouse-Warming was fore-doomed to failure. Nevertheless, as he was cookthat week, he could not bring himself to treat altogether lightly hisoffice of Master of the Feast. There would probably be no guests. Eventheir own little company would likely be incomplete, but t here was tobe a spread that afternoon, "anyways. "

Even had the Colonel needed any keeping up to the mark, the officewould have been cheerfully undertaken by O'Flynn or by Potts, for whominterest in the gustatory aspect of the occasion was wholly undimmed bythe threatened absence of Mac and the "little divvle. "

"There'll be the more for us, " said Potts enthusiastically. 

O'Flynn's argument seemed to halt upon a reservation. He looked overthe various contributions to the feast, set out on a board in front ofthe water-bucket, and, "It's mate I'm wishin' fur, " says he. 

"We've got fish. "

"That's only mate on Fridays. We've had fish fur five days stiddy, an'befure that, bacon three times a day wid sivin days to the week, an'not enough bacon ayther, begob, whin all's said and done! Not enough tobe fillin', and plenty to give us the scurrvy. May the divil dance onshorrt rations!"

"No scurvy in this camp for a while yet, " said the Colonel, throwingsome heavy objects into a pan and washing them vigorously round andround. 

"Pitaties!" O'Flynn's eyes dwelt lovingly on the rare food. "Ye'vehoarded 'em too long, man, they've sprouted. "

"That won't prevent you hoggin' more'n your share, I'll bet, " saidPotts pleasantly. 

"I don't somehow like wasting the sprouts, " observed the Colonelanxiously. "It's such a wonderful sight--something growing. " He had cutone pallid slip, and held it tenderly between knife and thumb. 

"Waste 'em with scurvy staring us in the face? Should think not. Mix'em with cold potaters in a salad. "

"No. Make slumgullion, " commanded O'Flynn. 

"What's that?" quoth the Colonel. 

"Be the Siven! I only wonder I didn't think of it befure. Arre yelistening, Kentucky? Ye take lots o' wathur, an' if ye want it rich, yetake the wathur ye've boiled pitaties or cabbage in--a vegetable stock, ye mind--and ye add a little flour, salt, and pepper, an' a tomater ifye're in New York or 'Frisco, and ye boil all that together with a fewfish-bones or bacon-rin's to make it rale tasty. "

"Yes--well?"

"Well, an' that's slumgullion. "

"Don't sound heady enough for a 'Blow-Out, '" said the Colonel. "We'llsober up on slumgullion to-morrow. "

"Anyhow, it's mate I'm wishin' fur, " sighed O'Flynn, subsiding amongthe tin-ware. "What's the good o' the little divvle and his thramps, ifhe can't bring home a burrud, or so much as the scut iv a rabbit furrthe soup?"

"Well, he's contributed a bottle of California apricots, and we'll haveboiled rice. "

"An' punch, glory be!"

"Y-yes, " answered the Colonel. "I've been thinkin' a good deal aboutthe punch. "

"So's myself, " said O'Flynn frankly; but Potts looked at the Colonelsuspiciously through narrowed eyes. 

"There's very little whiskey left, and I propose to brew a mild bowl--"

"To hell with your mild bowls!"

"A good enough punch, sah, but one that--that--a--well, that the wholekit and boodle of us can drink. Indians and everybody, you know ... Nicholas and Andrew may turn up. I want you two fellas to suppoht meabout this. There are reasons foh it, sah"--he had laid a hand onPotts' shoulder and fixed O'Flynn with his eye--"and"--speaking verysolemnly--"yoh neither o' yoh gentlemen that need mo' said on thesubject. "

Whereupon, having cut the ground from under their feet, he turneddecisively, and stirred the mush-pot with a magnificent air and anewly-whittled birch stick. 

To give the Big Cabin an aspect of solid luxury, they had spread theBoy's old buffalo "robe" on the floor, and as the morning wore on Pottsand O'Flynn made one or two expeditions to the Little Cabin, bringingback selections out of Mac's hoard "to decorate the banquet-hall, " asthey said. On the last trip Potts refused to accompany his pardner--no, it was no good. Mac evidently wouldn't be back to see, and the laughwould be on them "takin' so much trouble for nothin'. " And O'Flynnwasn't to be long either, for dinner had been absurdly postponedalready. 

When the door opened the next time, it was to admit Mac, Nicholas withKaviak in his arms, O'Flynn gesticulating like a windmill, and, last ofall, the Boy. 

Kaviak was formally introduced, but instead of responding to his hosts'attentions, the only thing he seemed to care about, or even see, wassomething that in the hurly-burly everybody else overlooked--thedecorations. Mac's stuffed birds and things made a remarkably goodshow, but the colossal success was reserved for the minute shrunkenskin of the baby white hare set down in front of the great fire for ahearthrug. If the others failed to appreciate that joke, not so Kaviak. He gave a gurgling cry, struggled down out of Nicholas's arms, andfolded the white hare to his breast. 

"Where are the other Indians?" said Mac. 

"Looking after the dogs, " said Father Wills; and as the door opened, "Oh yes, give us that, " he said to Andrew. "I thought"--he turned tothe Colonel--"maybe you'd like to try some Yukon reindeer. "

"Hooray!"

"Mate? Arre ye sayin' mate, or is an angel singin'?"

"Now I _know_ that man's a Christian, " soliloquised Potts. 

"Look here: it'll take a little time to cook, " said Mac, "and it'sworth waitin' for. Can you let us have a pail o' hot water in themeantime?"

"Y-yes, " said the Colonel, looking as if he had enough to think aboutalready. 

"Yes, we always wash them first of all, " said Father Wills, noticinghow Mac held the little heathen off at arm's length. "Nicholas used tohelp with that at Holy Cross. " He gave the new order with the oldauthoritative gesture. 

"And where's the liniment I lent you that you're so generous with?" Macarraigned O'Flynn. "Go and get it. "

Under Nicholas's hands Kaviak was forced to relinquish not only thebaby hare, but his own elf locks. He was closely sheared, his moccasinsput off, and his single garment dragged unceremoniously wrong side outover his head and bundled out of doors. 

"Be the Siven! he's got as manny bones as a skeleton!"

"Poor little codger!" The Colonel stood an instant, skillet in handstaring. 

"What's that he's got round his neck?" said the Boy, moving nearer. 

Kaviak, seeing the keen look menacing his treasure, lifted a shrunkenyellow hand and clasped tight the dirty shapeless object suspended froma raw-hide necklace. 

Nicholas seemed to hesitate to divest him of this sole remainingpossession. 

"You must get him to give it up, " said Father Wills, "and burn it. "

Kaviak flatly declined to fall in with as much as he understood of thisarrangement. 

"What is it, anyway?" the Boy pursued. 

"His amulet, I suppose. " As Father Wills proceeded to enforce hisorder, and pulled the leather string over the child's head, Kaviak rentthe air with shrieks and coughs. He seemed to say as well as he could, "I can do without my parki and my mucklucks, but I'll take my deathwithout my amulet. "

Mac insinuated himself brusquely between the victim and hispersecutors. He took the dirty object away from the priest with scantceremony, in spite of the whisper, "Infection!" and gave it back to thewrathful owner. 

"You talk his language, don't you?" Mac demanded of Nicholas. 

The Pymeut pilot nodded. 

"Tell him, if he'll lend the thing to me to wash, he shall have itback. "

Nicholas explained. 

Kaviak, with streaming eyes and quivering lips, reluctantly handed itover, and watched Mac anxiously till overwhelmed by a yet greatermisfortune in the shape of a bath for himself. 

"How shall I clean this thing thoroughly?" Mac condescended to askFather Wills. The priest shrugged. 

"He'll have forgotten it to-morrow. "

"He shall have it to-morrow, " said Mac. 

With his back to Kaviak, the Boy, O'Flynn, and Potts crowding roundhim, Mac ripped open the little bird-skin pouch, and took out threeobjects--an ivory mannikin, a crow's feather, and a thing that FatherWills said was a seal-blood plug. 

"What's it for?" "Same as the rest. It's an amulet; only as it's usedto stop the flow of blood from the wound of a captive seal, it issupposed to be the best of all charms for anyone who spits blood. "

"I'll clean 'em all after the Blow-Out, " said Mac, and he went out, buried the charms in the snow, and stuck up a spruce twig to mark thespot. 

Meanwhile, to poor Kaviak it was being plainly demonstrated what anawful fate descended on a person so unlucky as to part with his amulet. He stood straight up in the bucket like a champagne-bottle in a cooler, and he could not have resented his predicament more if he had been setin crushed ice instead of warm water. Under the remorseless hands ofNicholas he began to splutter and choke, to fizz, and finally explodewith astonishment and wrath. It was quite clear Nicholas was trying todrown him. He took the treatment so to heart, that he kept on howlingdismally for some time after he was taken out, and dried, andlinimented and dosed by Mac, whose treachery about the amulet he seemedto forgive, since "Farva" had had the air of rescuing him from thehorrors he had endured in that water-bucket, where, for all Kaviakknew, he might have stayed till he succumbed to death. The Boycontributed a shirt of his own, and helped Mac to put it on theincredibly thin little figure. The shirt came down to Kaviak's heels, and had to have the sleeves rolled up every two minutes. But by thetime the reindeer-steak was nearly done Kaviak was done, too, andO'Flynn had said, "That Spissimen does ye credit, Mac. "

Said Spissimen was now staring hungrily out of the Colonel's bunk, holding towards Mac an appealing hand, with half a yard of shirt-sleevefalling over it. 

Mac pretended not to see, and drew up to the table the one remainingavailable thing to sit on, his back to his patient. 

When the dogs had been fed, and the other Indians had come in, andsquatted on the buffalo-skin with Nicholas, the first course was sentround in tin cups, a nondescript, but warming, "camp soup. "

"Sorry we've got so few dishes, gentlemen, " the Colonel had said. "We'll have to ask some of you to wait till others have finished. "

"Farva, " remarked Kaviak, leaning out of the bunk and sniffing thesavoury steam. 

"He takes you for a priest, " said Potts, with the cheerful intention ofstirring Mac's bile. But not even so damning a suspicion as that couldcool the collector's kindness for his new Spissimen. 

"You come here, " he said. Kaviak didn't understand. The Boy got up, limped over to the bunk, lifted the child out, and brought him to Mac'sside. 

"Since there ain't enough cups, " said Mac, in self-justification, andhe put his own, half empty, to Kaviak's lips. The Spissimen imbibedgreedily, audibly, and beamed. Mac, with unimpaired gravity, took nonotice of the huge satisfaction this particular remedy was giving hispatient, except to say solemnly, "Don't bubble in it. "

The next course was fish a la Pymeut. 

"You're lucky to be able to get it, " said the Father, whether withsuspicion or not no man could tell. "I had to send back for some by atrader and couldn't get enough. "

"We didn't see any trader, " said the Boy to divert the current. 

"He may have gone by in the dusk; he was travelling hotfoot. "

"Thought that steamship was chockful o' grub. What did you want o'fish?"

"Yes; they've got plenty of food, but--"

"They don't relish parting with it, " suggested Potts. 

"They haven't much to think about except what they eat; they wanted totry our fish, and were ready to exchange. I promised I would send aload back from Ikogimeut if they'd--" He seemed not to care to finishthe sentence. 

"So you didn't do much for the Pymeuts after all?"

"I did something, " he said almost shortly. Then, with recoveredserenity, he turned to the Boy: "I promised I'd bring back any news. ""Yes. "

"Well?"

Everybody stopped eating and hung on the priest's words. 

"Captain Rainey's heard there's a big new strike--"

"In the Klondyke?"

"On the American side this time. "

"Hail Columbia!"

"Whereabouts?"

"At a place called Minook. "

"Where's that?"

"Up the river by the Ramparts. "

"How far?"

"Oh, a little matter of six or seven hundred miles from here. "

"Glory to God!"

"Might as well be six or seven thousand. "

"And very probably isn't a bona-fide strike at all, " said the priest, "but just a stampede--a very different matter. "

"Well, I tell you straight: I got no use for a gold-mine in Minook atthis time o' year. "

"Nop! Venison steak's more in my line than grub-stake just about now. "

Potts had to bestir himself and wash dishes before he could indulge inhis "line. " When the grilled reindeer did appear, flanked byreally-truly potatoes and the Colonel's hot Kentucky biscuit, there wasno longer doubt in any man's mind but what this Blow-Out was being asuccess. 

"Colonel's a daisy cook, ain't he?" the Boy appealed to Father Wills. 

The Jesuit assented cordially. 

"My family meant _me_ for the army, " he said. "Seen much service, Colonel?"

The Kentuckian laughed. 

"Never wasted a day soldiering in my life. "

"Oh!"

"Maybe you're wonderin', " said Potts, "why he's a Colonel!"

The Jesuit made a deprecatory gesture, politely disclaiming any suchrude curiosity. 

"He's from Kentucky, you see;" and the smile went round. "Beyond that, we can't tell you why he's a Colonel unless it's because he ain't aJudge;" and the boss of the camp laughed with the rest, for the Denverman had scored. 

By the time they got to the California apricots and boiled riceeverybody was feeling pretty comfortable. When, at last, the table wascleared, except for the granite-ware basin full of punch, and when allavailable cups were mustered and tobacco-pouches came out, a remarkablygenial spirit pervaded the company--with three exceptions. 

Potts and O'Flynn waited anxiously to sample the punch before givingway to complete satisfaction, and Kaviak was impervious toconsiderations either of punch or conviviality, being wrapped inslumber on a corner of the buffalo-skin, between Mac's stool and thenatives, who also occupied places on the floor. 

Upon O'Flynn's first draught he turned to his next neighbour:

"Potts, me bhoy, 'tain't s' bad. "

"I'll bet five dollars it won't make yer any happier. "

"Begob, I'm happy enough! Gentlemen, wud ye like I should sing ye asong?"

"Yes. "

"Yes, " and the Colonel thumped the table for order, infinitely relievedthat the dinner was done, and the punch not likely to turn into a_casus belli_. O'Flynn began a ditty about the Widdy Malone that wokeup Kaviak and made him rub his round eyes with astonishment. He sat up, and hung on to the back of Mac's coat to make sure he had someanchorage in the strange new waters he had so suddenly been called onto navigate. 

The song ended, the Colonel, as toast-master, proposed the healthof--he was going to say Father Wills, but felt it discreeter to name nonames. Standing up in the middle of the cabin, where he didn't have tostoop, he lifted his cup till it knocked against the swing-shelf, andcalled out, "Here's to Our Visitors, Neighbours, and Friends!"Whereupon he made a stately circular bow, which ended by his offeringKaviak his hand, in the manner of one who executes a figure in anold-fashioned dance. The smallest of "Our Visitors, " still keeping holdof Mac, presented the Colonel with the disengaged half-yard of flannelundershirt on the other side, and the speech went on, very flowery, very hospitable, very Kentuckian. 

When the Colonel sat down there was much applause, and O'Flynn, who hadlent his cup to Nicholas, and didn't feel he could wait till it cameback, began to drink punch out of the dipper between shouts of:

"Hooray! Brayvo! Here's to the Kurrnul! God bless him! That's raleoratry, Kurrnul! Here's to Kentucky--and ould Ireland. "

Father Wills stood up, smiling, to reply. 

_"Friends"_ (the Boy thought the keen eyes rested a fraction of amoment longer on Mac than on the rest), --_"I think in some ways this isthe pleasantest House-Warming I ever went to. I won't take up timethanking the Colonel for the friendly sentiments he's expressed, thoughI return them heartily. I must use these moments you are good enough togive me in telling you something of what I feel is implied in thefounding of this camp of yours. 

"Gentlemen, the few white dwellers in the Yukon country have not lookedforward"_ (his eyes twinkled almost wickedly) _"with that pleasure youmight expect in exiles, to the influx of people brought up here by thegreat Gold Discovery. We knew what that sort of craze leads to. We knewthat in a barren land like this, more and more denuded of wild gameevery year, more and more the prey of epidemic disease--we knew thatinto this sorely tried and hungry world would come a horde of men, allof them ignorant of the conditions up here, most of them ill-providedwith proper food and clothing, many of them (I can say it withoutoffence in this company)--many of them men whom the older, richercommunities were glad to get rid of. Gentlemen, I have ventured to takeyou into our confidence so far, because I want to take you stillfarther--to tell you a little of the intense satisfaction with which werecognise that good fortune has sent us in you just the sort ofneighbours we had not dared to hope for. It means more to us than yourealise. When I heard a few weeks ago that, in addition to theboat-loads that had already got some distance up the river beyond HolyCross--"_

"Going to Dawson?"

"Oh, yes, Klondyke mad--"

"They'll be there before us, boys!"

"Anyways, they'll get to Minook. "

The Jesuit shook his head. "It isn't so certain. They probably madeonly a couple of hundred miles or so before the Yukon went to sleep. "

"Then if grub gives out they'll be comin' back here?" suggested Potts. 

_"Small doubt of it, "_ agreed the priest. _"And when I heard there wereparties of the same sort stranded at intervals all along the LowerRiver--"_

"You sure?"

He nodded. 

_"And when Father Orloff of the Russian mission told us that he wasalready having trouble with the two big rival parties frozen in the icebelow Ikogimeut--"_

"Gosh! Wonder if any of 'em were on our ship?"

_"Well, gentlemen, I do not disguise from you that, when I heard of thelarge amount of whiskey, the small amount of food, and the low type ofmanners brought in by these gold-seekers, I felt my fears justified. Such men don't work, don't contribute anything to the decent sociallife of the community, don't build cabins like this. When I came downon the ice the first time after you'd camped, and I looked up and sawyour solid stone chimney"_ (he glanced at Mac), _"I didn't know what aHouse-Warming it would make; but already, from far off across the iceand snow, that chimney warmed my heart. Gentlemen, the fame of it hasgone up the river and down the river. Father Orloff is coming to see itnext week, and so are the white traders from Anvik and Andreiefsky, forthey've heard there's nothing like it in the Yukon. Of course, I knowthat you gentlemen have not come to settle permanently. I know thatwhen the Great White Silence, as they call the long winter up here, isbroken by the thunder of the ice rushing down to the sea, you, like therest, will exchange the snow-fields for the gold-fields, and pass outof our ken. Now, I'm not usually prone to try my hand at prophecy; butI am tempted to say, even on our short acquaintance, that I amtolerably sure that, while we shall be willing enough to spare most ofthe new-comers to the Klondyke, we shall grudge to the gold-fields themen who built this camp and warmed this cabin. "_ (His eye restedreflectively on Mac. ) _"I don't wish to sit down leaving an impressionof speaking with entire lack of sympathy of the impulse that brings menup here for gold. I believe that, even with the sort in the two campsbelow Ikogimeut--drinking, quarrelling, and making trouble with thenatives at the Russian mission--I believe that even with them, the goldthey came up here for is a symbol--a fetich, some of us may think. Whensuch men have it in their hands, they feel dimly that they are layingtangible hold at last on some elusive vision of happiness that hashitherto escaped them. Behind each man braving the Arctic winter uphere, is some hope, not all ignoble; some devotion, not allunsanctified. Behind most of these men I seem to see a wife or child, aparent, or some dear dream that gives that man his share in the EternalHope. Friends, we call that thing we look for by different names; butwe are all seekers after treasure, all here have turned our backs onhome and comfort, hunting for the Great Reward--each man a new Columbuslooking for the New World. Some of us looking north, some south, some"_--he hesitated the briefest moment, and then with a faint smile, half sad, half triumphant, made a little motion of his head--_"some ofus ... Looking upwards. "_

But quickly, as though conscious that, if he had raised the moral toneof the company, he had not raised its spirits, he hurried on:

_"Before I sit down, gentlemen, just one word more. I must congratulateyou on having found out so soon, not only the wisdom, but the pleasureof looking at this Arctic world with intelligent eyes, and learningsome of her wonderful lessons. It is so that, now the hardest work isfinished, you will keep up your spirits and avoid the disease thatattacks all new-comers who simply eat, sleep, and wait for the ice togo out. When I hear cheechalkos complaining of boredom up here in thisworld of daily miracles, I think of the native boy in thehistory-class, who, called on to describe the progress of civilisation, said: 'In those days men had as many wives as they liked, and that wascalled polygamy. Now they have only one wife, and that's calledmonotony. '"_

While O'Flynn howled with delight, the priest wound up:

_"Gentlemen, if we find monotony up here, it's not the country's fault, but a defect in our own civilisation. "_ Wherewith he sat down amidcheers. 

"Now, Colonel, is Mac goin' to recite some Border ballads?" inquiredthe Boy, "or will he make a speech, or do a Highland fling?"

The Colonel called formally upon Mr. MacCann. 

Mac was no sooner on his legs than Kaviak, determined not to lose hisgrasp of the situation, climbed upon the three-legged stool justvacated, and resumed his former relations with the friendly coat-tail. 

Everybody laughed but Mac, who pretended not to know what was going onbehind his back. 

"Gentlemen, " he began harshly, with the air of one about to launch aheavy indictment, "there's one element largely represented here bynumbers and by interests"--he turned round suddenly toward the natives, and almost swung Kaviak off into space--"one element not explicitlyreferred to in the speeches, either of welcome or of thanks. But, gentlemen, I submit that these hitherto unrecognised Natives are ourreal hosts, and a word about them won't be out of place. I've been toldto-day that, whether in Alaska, Greenland, or British America, theycall themselves _Innuits, _ which means human beings. They believed, nodoubt, that they were the only ones in the world. I've been thinking agreat deal about these Esquimaux of late--"

"Hear, hear!"

"About their origin and their destiny. " (Mac was beginning to enjoyhimself. The Boy was beginning to be bored and to drum softly with hisfingers. ) "Now, gentlemen, Buffon says that the poles were the firstportions of the earth's crust to cool. While the equator, and even thetropics of Cancer and of Capricorn, were still too boiling hot tosupport life, up here in the Arctic regions there was a carboniferousera goin' on--"

"Where's the coal, then?" sneered Potts. 

"It's bein' discovered ... All over ... Ask him" (indicating FatherWills, who smiled assent). "Tropical forests grew where there areglayshers now, and elephants and mastodons began life here. "

"Jimminy Christmas!" interrupted the Boy, sitting up very straight. "Isthat Buffer you quoted a good authority?"

"First-rate, " Mac snapped out defiantly. 

"Good Lord! then the Garden o' Eden was up here. "

"Hey?"

"Course! _This_ was the cradle o' the human race. Blow the Ganges! Blowthe Nile! It was our Yukon that saw the first people, 'cause of coursethe first people lived in the first place got ready for 'em. "

"That don't follow. Read your Bible. "

"If I'm not right, how did it happen there were men here when the Northwas first discovered?"

"Sh!"

"Mac's got the floor. "

"Shut up!"

But the Boy thumped the table with one hand and arraigned theschoolmaster with the other. 

"Now, Mac, I put it to you as a man o' science: if the race had got afoothold in any other part o' the world, what in Sam Hill could make'em come up here?"

"_We're_ here. "

"Yes, tomfools after gold. They never dreamed there was gold. No, Sir_ee!_ the only thing on earth that could make men stay here, wouldbe that they were born here, and didn't know any better. Don't theprimitive man cling to his home, no matter what kind o' hole it is?He's _afraid_ to leave it. And these first men up here, why, it's plainas day--they just hung on, things gettin' worse and worse, and colderand colder, and some said, as the old men we laugh at say at home, 'Theclimate ain't what it was when I was a boy, ' and nobody believed 'em, but everybody began to dress warmer and eat fat, and--"

"All that Buffon says is--"

"Yes--and they invented one thing after another to meet the newconditions--kaiaks and bidarras and ivory-tipped harpoons"--he waspouring out his new notions at the fastest express rate--"and theanimals that couldn't stand it emigrated, and those that stayed behindgot changed--"

"Dry up. "

"One at a time. "

"Buffon--"

"Yes, yes, Mac, and the hares got white, and the men, playin' a losin'game for centuries, got dull in their heads and stunted in theirlegs--always cramped up in a kaiak like those fellas at St. Michael's. And, why, it's clear as crystal--they're survivals! The Esquimaux arethe oldest race in the world. "

"Who's makin' this speech?"

"Order!"

"Order!"

"Well, see here: _do_ you admit it, Mac? Don't you see there were justa few enterprisin' ones who cleared out, or, maybe, got carried away ina current, and found better countries and got rich and civilised, andbecame our forefathers? Hey, boys, ain't I right?"

"You sit down. "

"You'll get chucked out. "

"Buffon--"

Everybody was talking at once. 

"Why, it goes on still, " the Boy roared above the din. "People whostick at home, and are patient, and put up with things, they're doomed. But look at the fellas that come out o' starvin' attics and stinkin'pigsties to America. They live like lords, and they look at life likemen. "

Mac was saying a great deal about the Ice Age and the first and secondperiods of glaciation, but nobody could hear what. 

_"Prince_ Nicholas? Well, I should smile. He belongs to the oldestfamily in the world. Hoop-la!" The Boy jumped up on his stool andcracked his head against the roof; but he only ducked, rubbed his wild, long hair till it stood out wilder than ever, and went on: "Nicholas'sforefathers were kings before Caesar; they were here before thePyramids--"

The Colonel came round and hauled the Boy down. Potts was egging themiscreant on. O'Flynn, poorly disguising his delight in a scrimmage, had been shouting: "Ye'll spoil the Blow-Out, ye meddlin' jackass!Can't ye let Mac make his spache? No; ye must ahlways be huntin' roundfur harrum to be doin' or throuble to make. "

In the turmoil and the contending of many voices Nicholas began toexplain to his friends that it wasn't a real fight, as it had everyappearance of being, and the visitors were in no immediate danger oftheir lives. But Kaviak feared the worst, and began to weep forlornly. 

"The world is dyin' at top and bottom!" screamed the Boy, writhingunder the Colonel's clutch. "The ice will spread, the beasts will turnwhite, and we'll turn yella, and we'll all dress in skins and eat fatand be exactly like Kaviak, and the last man'll be found tryin' to warmhis hands at the Equator, his feet on an iceberg and his nose in asnowstorm. Your old Buffer's got a long head, Mac. Here's to Buffer!"Whereupon he subsided and drank freely of punch. 

"Well, " said the Colonel, severely, "you've had a Blow-Out if nobodyelse has!"

"Feel better?" inquired Potts, tenderly. 

"Now, Mac, you shall have a fair field, " said the Colonel, "and if theBoy opens his trap again--"

"I'll punch 'im, " promised O'Flynn, replenishing the disturber's cup. 

But Mac wouldn't be drawn. Besides, he was feeding Kaviak. So theColonel filled in the breach with "My old Kentucky Home, " which he sangwith much feeling, if not great art. 

This performance restored harmony and a gentle reflectiveness. 

Father Wills told about his journey up here ten years before and of afurther expedition he'd once made far north to the Koyukuk. 

"But Nicholas knows more about the native life and legends than anyoneI ever met, except, of course, Yagorsha. "

"Who's Yag----?" began the Boy. 

"Oh, that's the Village Story-teller. " He was about to speak ofsomething else, but, lifting his eyes, he caught Mac's sudden glance ofgrudging attention. The priest looked away, and went on: "There's astory-teller in every settlement. He has always been a great figure inthe native life, I believe, but now more than ever. "

"Why's that?"

"Oh, battles are over and blood-feuds are done, but the need for astory-teller abides. In most villages he is a bigger man than thechief--they're all 'ol' chiefs, ' the few that are left--and when theydie there will be no more. So the tribal story-teller comes to be themost important character"--the Jesuit smiled in that shrewd and gentleway of his--"that is, of course, after the Shamán, as the Russians callhim, the medicine-man, who is a teller of stories, too, in his morecircumscribed fashion. But it's the Story-teller who helps his peoplethrough the long winter--helps them to face the terrible new enemies, epidemic disease and famine. He has always been their best defenceagainst that age-old dread they all have of the dark. Yes, no onebetter able to send such foes flying than Yagorsha of Pymeut. Still, Nicholas is a good second. " The Prince of Pymeut shook his head. 

"Tell them 'The White Crow's Last Flight, '" urged the priest. 

But Nicholas was not in the vein, and when they all urged him overmuch, he, in self-defence, pulled a knife out of his pocket and a bit ofwalrus ivory about the size of his thumb, and fell to carving. 

"What you makin'?"

"Button, " says Nicholas; "me heap hurry get him done. "

"It looks more like a bird than a button, " remarked the Boy. 

"Him bird--him button, " replied the imperturbable one. 

"Half the folk-lore of the North has to do with the crow (or raven), "the priest went on. "Seeing Kaviak's feather reminded me of a nativecradle-song that's a kind of a story, too. It's been roughlytranslated. "

"Can you say it?"

"I used to know how it went. "

He began in a deep voice:

 "'The wind blows over the Yukon. My husband hunts deer on the Koyukun mountains. Ahmi, ahmi, sleep, little one. 

 There is no wood for the fire, The stone-axe is broken, my husband carries the other. Where is the soul of the sun? Hid in the dam of the beaver, waiting the spring-time. Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, wake not!

 Look not for ukali, old woman. Long since the cache was emptied, the crow lights no more on the ridge pole. Long since, my husband departed. Why does he wait in the mountains? Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, softly. 

 Where, where, where is my own? Does he lie starving on the hillside? Why does he linger? Comes he not soon I must seek him among the mountains. Ahmi, ahmi, little one, sleep sound. 

 Hush! hush! hush! The crow cometh laughing. Red is his beak, his eyes glisten, the false one! "Thanks for a good meal to Kuskokala the Shamán-- On the far mountain quietly lieth your husband. " Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, wake not. 

 "Twenty deers' tongues tied to the pack on his shoulders; Not a tongue in his mouth to call to his wife with. Wolves, foxes, and ravens are tearing and fighting for morsels. Tough and hard are the sinews; not so the child in your bosom. " Ahmi, ahmi, sleep little one, wake not!

 Over the mountain slowly staggers the hunter. Two bucks' thighs on his shoulders. Twenty deers' tongues in his belt. "Go, gather wood, kindle a fire, old woman!" Off flew the crow--liar, cheat and deceiver. Wake, oh sleeper, awake! welcome your father!

 He brings you back fat, marrow, venison fresh from the mountain Tired and worn, yet he's carved you a toy of the deer's horn, While he was sitting and waiting long for the deer on the hillside. Wake! see the crow! hiding himself from the arrow; Wake, little one, wake! here is your father safe home. '"

"Who's 'Kuskokala the Shamán'?" the Boy inquired. 

"Ah, better ask Nicholas, " answered the priest. 

But Nicholas was absorbed in his carving. 

Again Mr. O'Flynn obliged, roaring with great satisfaction:

 "'I'm a stout rovin' blade, and what matther my name, For I ahlways was wild, an' I'll niver be tame; An' I'll kiss putty gurrls wheriver I go, An' what's that to annyone whether or no. 

 _Chorus. _

 "'Ogedashin, den thashin, come, boys! let us drink; 'Tis madness to sorra, 'tis folly to think. For we're ahl jolly fellows wheriver we go-- Ogedashin, den thashin, na boneen sheen lo!'"

Potts was called on. No, he couldn't sing, but he could show them atrick or two. And with his grimy euchre-deck he kept his word, showingthat he was not the mere handy-man, but the magician of the party. Thenatives, who know the cards as we know our A B C's, were enthralled, and began to look upon Potts as a creature of more than mortal skill. 

Again the Boy pressed Nicholas to dance. "No, no;" and under hisbreath: "You come Pymeut. "

Meanwhile, O'Flynn, hugging the pleasant consciousness that he haddistinguished himself--his pardner, too--complained that the onlycontribution Mac or the Boy had made was to kick up a row. What stepswere they going to take to retrieve their characters and minister tothe public entertainment?

"I've supplied the decorations, " said Mac in a final tone. 

"Well, and the Bhoy? What good arre ye, annyway?"

"Hard to say, " said the person addressed; but, thinking hard: "Wouldyou like to see me wag my ears?" Some languid interest was manifestedin this accomplishment, but it fell rather flat after Potts' splendidachievements with the euchre-deck. 

"No, ye ain't good fur much as an enthertainer, " said O'Flynn frankly. 

Kaviak had begun to cry for more punch, and Mac was evidently growing agood deal perplexed as to the further treatment for his patient. 

"Did ye be tellin' some wan, Father, that when ye found that Esquimerhe had grass stuffed in his mouth? Sure, he'll be missin' that grass. Ram somethin' down his throat. "

"Was it done to shorten his sufferings?" the Colonel asked in anundertone. 

"No, " answered the priest in the same low voice; "if they listen longto the dying, the cry gets fixed in their imagination, and they hear itafter the death, and think the spirit haunts the place. Their fear andhorror of the dead is beyond belief. They'll turn a dying man out ofhis own house, and not by the door, but through a hole in the roof. Orthey pull out a log to make an opening, closing it up quick, so thespirit won't find his way back. "

Kaviak continued to lament. 

"Sorry we can't offer you some blubber, Kaviak. "

"'Tain't that he's missin'; he's got an inexhaustible store of his own. His mistake is offerin' it to us. "

"I know what's the matter with that little shaver, " said the Boy. "Hehasn't got any stool, and you keep him standin' on those legs of hislike matches. "

"Let him sit on the buffalo-skin there, " said Mac gruffly. 

"Don't you s'pose he's thought o' the buffalo-skin? But he'd hate it. Alittle fella likes to be up where he can see what's goin' on. He'd feelas lost 'way down there on the buffalo as a puppy in a corn-brake. "

The Boy was standing up, looking round. 

"I know. Elephas! come along, Jimmie!" In spite of remonstrance, theyrushed to the door and dragged in the "fossle. " When Nicholas and hisfriends realised what was happening, they got up grunting andprotesting. "Lend a hand, Andrew, " the Boy called to the man nearest. 

"No--no!" objected the true son of the Church, with uncommon fervour. 

"You, then, Nicholas. "

_"Oo, _ ha, _oo!_ No touch! No touch!"

"What's up? You don't know what this is. "

"Huh! Nicholas know plenty well. Nicholas no touch bones of deaddevils. " This view of the "fossle" so delighted the company that, acting on a sudden impulse, they pushed the punch-bowl out of the way, and, with a whoop, hoisted the huge thing on the table. Then the Boyseized the whimpering Kaviak, and set him high on the throne. Sosurprised was the topmost Spissimen that he was as quiet for a momentas the one underneath him, staring about, blinking. Then, looking downat Mac's punch-cup, he remembered his grievance, and took up the wailwhere he had left it off. 

"Nuh, nuh! don't you do that, " said the Boy with startling suddenness. "If you make that noise, I'll have to make a worse one. If you cry, Kaviak, I'll have to sing. Hmt, hmt! don't you do it. " And as Kaviak, in spite of instructions, began to bawl, the Boy began to do aplantation jig, crooning monotonously:

 "'Grashoppah sett'n on de swee' p'tater vine, Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'tater vine; Grasshoppah--'"

He stopped as suddenly as he'd begun. "_Now_, will you be good?"

Kaviak drew a breath with a catch in it, looked round, and began asfirmly as ever:

"Weh!--eh!--eh!"

"Sh--sh!" The Boy clapped his hands, and lugubriously intoned:

 "'Dey's de badger and de bah, En de funny lil hah, En de active lil flea, En de lil armadillah Dat sleeps widouter pillah, An dey all gottah mate but me--ee--ee!'

"Farva!" Kaviak gasped. 

"Say, do a nigger breakdown, " solicited Potts. 

"Ain't room; besides, I can't do it with blisters. "

They did the impossible--they made room, and turned back thebuffalo-skin. Only the big Colonel, who was most in the way of all, sat, not stirring, staring in the fire. Such a look on the absent, tender face as the great masters, the divinest poets cannot oftensummon, but which comes at the call of some foolish old nursery jingle, some fragment of half-forgotten folk-lore, heard when the world wasyoung--when all hearing was music, when all sight was "pictures, " whenevery sense brought marvels that seemed the everyday way of thewonderful, wonderful world. 

For an obvious reason it is not through the utterances of the greatestthat the child receives his first intimations of the beauty and themystery of things. These come in lowly guise with familiar everydayvoices, but their eloquence has the incommunicable grace of infancy, the promise of the first dawn, the menace of the first night. 

"Do you remember the thing about the screech-owl and the weathersigns?" said the Colonel, roused at last by the jig on his toes and therattle of improvised "bones" almost in his face. 

"Reckon I do, honey, " said the Boy, his feet still flying and flappingon the hard earthen floor. 

 "_'Wen de screech-owl light on de gable en' En holler, Who--ool oh--oh!'_"

He danced up and hooted in Kaviak's face. 

 "_'Den yo' bettah keep yo eyeball peel, Kase 'e bring bad luck t' yo'. Oh--oh! oh-oh!'_"

Then, sinking his voice, dancing slowly, and glancing anxiously under thetable:

 "_'Wen de ole black cat widdee yalla eyes Slink round like she atterah mouse, Den yo' bettah take keer yo'self en frien's, Kase deys sholy a witch en de house. '_"

An awful pause, a shiver, and a quick change of scene, indicated by agurgling whoop, ending in a quacking:

 "_'Wen de puddle-duck'e leave de pon', En start t' comb e fedder, Den yo' bettah take yo' omberel, Kase deys gwine tubbee wet wedder. '_"

"Now comes the speckly rooster, " the Colonel prompted. 

The Boy crowed long and loud:

 "_'Effer ole wile rooster widder speckly tail Commer crowin' befoh de do', En yo got some comp'ny a'ready, Yo's gwinter have some mo'. '_"

Then he grunted, and went on all fours. "Kaviak!" he called, "you takewarnin'----

 "_'Wen yo' see a pig agoin' along--'_"

Look here: Kaviak's never seen a pig! I call it a shame. 

 _"'Wen yo' see a pig agoin' along Widder straw en de sider 'is mouf, It'll be a tuhble winter, En yo' bettuh move down Souf. '"_

He jumped up and dashed into a breakdown, clattering the bones, andscreeching:

 _"'Squirl he got a bushy tail, Possum's tail am bah, Raccoon's tail am ringed all roun'-- Touch him ef yo dah! Rabbit got no tail at all, Cep a little bit o' bunch o' hah. '"_

The group on the floor, undoubtedly, liked that part of theentertainment that involved the breakdown, infinitely the best of all, but simultaneously, at its wildest moment, they all turned their headsto the door. Mac noticed the movement, listened, and then got up, lifted the latch, and cautiously looked out. The Boy caught a glimpseof the sky over Mac's shoulder. 

"Jimminy Christmas!" He stopped, nearly breathless. "It can't be afire. Say, boys! they're havin' a Blow-Out up in heaven. "

The company crowded out. The sky was full of a palpitant light. AnIndian appeared from round the stockade; he was still staring up at thestone chimney. 

"Are we on fire?"

"How-do. " He handed Father Wills a piece of dirty paper. 

"Hah! Yes. All right. Andrew!"

Andrew needed no more. He bustled away to harness the dogs. The whitemen were staring up at the sky. "What's goin' on in heaven, Father?S'pose you call this the Aurora Borealis--hey?"

"Yes, " said the priest; "and finer than we often get it. We are not farenough north for the great displays. "

He went in to put on his parki. 

Mac, after looking out, had shut the door and stayed behind withKaviak. 

On Father Will's return Farva, speaking apparently less to the priestthan to the floor, muttered: "Better let him stop where he is till hiscold's better. "

The Colonel came in. 

"Leave the child here!" ejaculated the priest. 

"--till he's better able to travel. "

"Why not?" said the Colonel promptly. 

"Well, it would be a kindness to keep him a few days. I'll _have_ totravel fast tonight. "

"Then it's settled. " Mac bundled Kaviak into the Boy's bunk. 

When the others were ready to go out again, Farva caught up his furcoat and went along with them. 

The dogs were not quite ready. The priest was standing a littleabsentmindedly, looking up. The pale green streamers were fringed withthe tenderest rose colour, and from the corona uniting them at thezenith, they shot out across the heavens, with a rapid circular andlateral motion, paling one moment, flaring up again the next. 

"Wonder what makes it, " said the Colonel. 

"Electricity, " Mac snapped out promptly. 

The priest smiled. 

"One mystery for another. "

He turned to the Boy, and they went on together, preceding the others, a little, on the way down the trail towards the river. 

"I think you must come and see us at Holy Cross--eh? Come soon;" andthen, without waiting for an answer: "The Indians think these flittinglights are the souls of the dead at play. But Yagorsha says that longago a great chief lived in the North who was a mighty hunter. It wasalways summer up here then, and the big chief chased the big game fromone end of the year to another, from mountain to mountain and fromriver to sea. He killed the biggest moose with a blow of his fist, andcaught whales with his crooked thumb for a hook. One long day in summerhe'd had a tremendous chase after a wonderful bird, and he came homewithout it, deadbeat and out of temper. He lay down to rest, but thesunlight never winked, and the unending glare maddened him. He rolled, and tossed, and roared, as only the Yukon roars when the ice rushesdown to the sea. But he couldn't sleep. Then in an awful fury he gotup, seized the day in his great hands, tore it into little bits, andtossed them high in the air. So it was dark. And winter fell on theworld for the first time. During months and months, just to punish thisgreat crime, there was no bright sunshine; but often in the long night, while the chief was wearying for summer to come again, he'd betantalised by these little bits of the broken day that flickered in thesky. Coming, Andrew?" he called back. 

The others trooped down-hill, dogs, sleds, and all. There was a greathand-shaking and good-byeing. 

Nicholas whispered:

"You come Pymeut?"

"I should just pretty nearly think I would. "

"You dance heap good. Buttons no all done. " He put four little ivorycrows into the Boy's hands. They were rudely but cleverly carved, witheyes outlined in ink, and supplied under the breast with a neatinward-cut shank. 

"Mighty fine!" The Boy examined them by the strange glow thatbrightened in the sky. 

"You keep. "

"Oh no, can't do that. "

"_Yes!_" Nicholas spoke peremptorily. "Yukon men have big feast, mustbring present. Me no got reindeer, me got button. " He grinned. "Goo'-bye. " And the last of the guests went his way. 

 * * * * *

It was only habit that kept the Colonel toasting by the fire before heturned in, for the cabin was as warm to-night as the South inmid-summer. 

 _"Grasshoppah sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine, "_

The Boy droned sleepily as he untied the leathern thongs that kept uphis muckluck legs--

 _"Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'ta--"_

"All those othahs"--the Colonel waved a hand in the direction ofPymeut--"I think we dreamed 'em, Boy. You and me playing the Big Gamewith Fohtune. Foolishness! Klondyke? Yoh crazy. Tell me the river'shard as iron and the snow's up to the windah? Don' b'lieve a wo'd ofit. We're on some plantation, Boy, down South, in the niggah quawtaws. "

The Boy was turning back the covers, and balancing a moment on the sideof the bunk. 

 _"Sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'ta--"_

"Great Caesar's ghost!" He jumped up, and stood staring down at thesleeping Kaviak. 

"Ah--a--didn't you know? He's been left behind for a few days. "

"Yes, I can see he's left behind. No, Colonel, I reckon we're in theArctic regions all right when it comes to catchin' Esquimers in yourbed!"

He pulled the furs over Kaviak and himself, and curled down to sleep. 

CHAPTER V

THE SHAMÁN. 

"For my part, I have ever believed and do now know, that there arewitches. "--_Religio Medici. _

The Boy had hoped to go to Pymeut the next day, but his feet refused tocarry him. Mac took a diagram and special directions, and went afterthe rest of elephas, conveying the few clumsy relics home, bit by bit, with a devotion worthy of a pious pilgrim. 

For three days the Boy growled and played games with Kaviak, goingabout at first chiefly on hands and knees. 

On the fifth day after the Blow-Out, "You comin' long to Pymeut thismornin'?" he asked the Colonel. 

"What's the rush?"

"_Rush!_ Good Lord! it's 'most a week since they were here. And it'sstopped snowin', and hasn't thought of sleetin' yet or anything elserambunksious. Come on, Colonel. "

But Father Wills had shown the Colonel the piece of dirty paper theIndian had brought on the night of the Blow-Out. 

"_Trouble threatened. Pymeuts think old chief dying not of consumption, but of a devil. They've sent a dogteam to bring the Shamán down overthe ice. Come quickly. --_PAUL. "

"Reckon we'd better hold our horses till we hear from Holy Cross. "

"Hear what?"

The Colonel didn't answer, but the Boy didn't wait to listen. Heswallowed his coffee scalding hot, rolled up some food and stuff fortrading, in a light reindeer skin blanket, lashed it packwise on hisback, shouldered his gun, and made off before the Trio came in tobreakfast. 

The first sign that he was nearing a settlement, was the appearance ofwhat looked like sections of rude wicker fencing, set up here and therein the river and frozen fast in the ice. High on the bank lay one ofthe long cornucopia-shaped basket fish-traps, and presently he caughtsight of something in the bleak Arctic landscape that made his heartjump, something that to Florida eyes looked familiar. 

"Why, if it doesn't make me think of John Fox's cabin on CypressCreek!" he said to himself, formulating an impression that had vaguelyhaunted him on the Lower River in September; wondering if the Yukonflooded like the Caloosahatchee, and if the water could reach as far upas all that. 

He stopped to have a good look at this first one of the Pymeut caches, for this modest edifice, like a Noah's Ark on four legs, was not ahabitation, but a storehouse, and was perched so high, not for fear offloods, but for fear of dogs and mice. This was manifest from the factthat there were fish-racks and even ighloos much nearer the river. 

The Boy stopped and hesitated; it was a sore temptation to climb up andsee what they had in that cache. There was an inviting plank all ready, with sticks nailed on it transversely to prevent the feet fromslipping. But the Boy stopped at the rude ladder's foot, deciding thatthis particular mark of interest on the part of a stranger might bemisinterpreted. It would, perhaps, be prudent to find Nicholas first ofall. But where was Nicholas?--where was anybody?

The scattered, half-buried huts were more like earth-mounds, snow-encrusted, some with drift-logs propped against the front facelooking riverwards. 

While he was cogitating how to effect an entrance to one of these, orto make his presence known, he saw, to his relief, the back of asolitary Indian going in the direction of an ighloo farther up theriver. 

"Hi, hi!" he shouted, and as the figure turned he made signs. Itstopped. 

"How-do?" the Boy called out when he got nearer. "You talk English?"

The native laughed. A flash of fine teeth and sparkling eyes lit up ayoung, good-looking face. This boy seemed promising. 

"How d'ye do? You know Nicholas?"

"Yes. "

The laugh was even gayer. It seemed to be a capital joke to knowNicholas. 

"Where is he?"

The figure turned and pointed, and then: "Come. I show you. "

This was a more highly educated person than Nicholas, thought thevisitor, remarking the use of the nominative scorned of the Prince. 

They walked on to the biggest of the underground dwellings. 

"Is this where the King hangs out? Nicholas' father lives here?"

"No. This is the Kazhga. "

"Oh, the Kachime. Ain't you comin' in?"

"Oh no. "

"Why?"

His guide had a fit of laughter, and then turned to go. 

"Say, what's your name?"

The answer sounded like "Muckluck. "

And just then Nicholas crawled out of the tunnel-like opening leadinginto the council-house. He jumped up, beaming at the sight of hisfriend. 

"Say, Nicholas, who's this fella that's always laughing, no matter whatyou say? Calls himself 'Muckluck. '"

The individual referred to gave way to another spasm of merriment, which infected Nicholas. 

"My sister--this one, " he explained. 

"Oh-h!" The Boy joined in the laugh, and pulled off his Arctic cap witha bow borrowed straight from the Colonel. 

"Princess Muckluck, I'm proud to know you. "

"Name no Muckluck, " began Nicholas; "name Mahk----"

"Mac? Nonsense! Mac's a man's name--she's Princess Muckluck. Only, how's a fella to tell, when you dress her like a man?"

The Princess still giggled, while her brother explained. 

"No like man. See?" He showed how the skirt of her deerskin parki, reaching, like her brother's, a little below the knee, was shaped roundin front, and Nicholas's own--all men's parkis were cut straightacross. 

"I see. How's your father?"

Nicholas looked grave; even Princess Muckluck stopped laughing. 

"Come, " said Nicholas, and the Boy followed him on all fours into theKachime. 

Entering on his stomach, he found himself in a room about sixteen bytwenty feet, two-thirds underground, log-walls chinked with moss, aroof of poles sloping upwards, tent-like, but leaving an opening in themiddle for a smoke-hole some three feet square, and covered at presentby a piece of thin, translucent skin. With the sole exception of thesmoke-hole, the whole thing was so covered with earth, and capped withsnow, that, expecting a mere cave, one was surprised at the wood-liningwithin. The Boy was still more surprised at the concentration, there, of malignant smells. 

He gasped, and was for getting out again as fast as possible, when thebearskin flap fell behind him over the Kachime end of theentrance-tunnel. 

Through the tobacco-smoke and the stifling air he saw, vaguely, a gravegathering of bucks sitting, or, rather, lounging and squatting, on theouter edge of the wide sleeping-bench that ran all round the room, about a foot and a half from the hewn-log floor. 

Their solemn, intent faces were lit grotesquely by the uncertain glowof two seal-oil lamps, mounted on two posts, planted one in front ofthe right sleeping-bench, the other on the left. 

The Boy hesitated. Was it possible he could get used to the atmosphere?Certainly it was warm in here, though there was no fire that he couldsee. Nicholas was talking away very rapidly to the half-dozen grave andreverend signiors, they punctuating his discourse with occasionalgrunts and a well-nigh continuous coughing. Nicholas wound up inEnglish. 

"Me tell you: he heap good friend. You ketch um tobacco?" he inquiredsuddenly of his guest. Fortunately, the Boy had remembered to "ketch"that essential, and his little offering was laid before thecouncil-men. More grunts, and room made for the visitor on thesleeping-bench next the post that supported one of the lamps, a claysaucer half-full of seal-oil, in which a burning wick of twisted mossgave forth a powerful odour, a fair amount of smoke, and a faint light. 

The Boy sat down, still staring about him, taking note of the well-hewnlogs, and of the neat attachment of the timbers by a saddle-joint atthe four corners of the roof. 

"Who built this?" he inquired of Nicholas. 

"Ol' father, an' ... Heap ol' men gone dead. "

"Gee! Well, whoever did it was on to his job, " he said. "I don't seen anail in the whole sheebang. "

"No, no nail. "

The Boy remembered Nicholas's sled, and, looking again at thedisproportionately small hands of the men about him, corrected hisfirst impression that they were too feminine to be good for much. 

A dirty old fellow, weak and sickly in appearance, began to talkquerulously. All the others listened with respect, smoking and makinginarticulate noises now and then. When that discourse was finished, afresh one was begun by yet another coughing councillor. 

"What's it all about?" the Boy asked. 

"Ol' Chief heap sick, " said the buck on the Boy's right. 

"Ol' Chief, ol' father, b'long me, " Nicholas observed with pride. 

"Yes; but aren't the Holy Cross people nursing him?"

"Brother Paul gone; white medicine no good. "

They all shook their heads and coughed despairingly. 

"Then try s'm' other--some yella-brown, Esquimaux kind, " hazarded theBoy lightly, hardly noticing what he was saying till he found nearlyall the eyes of the company fixed intently upon him. Nicholas wastranslating, and it was clear the Boy had created a sensation. 

"Father Wills no like, " said one buck doubtfully. "He make cross-eyeswhen Shamán come. "

"Oh yes, medicine-man, " said the Boy, following the narrative eagerly. 

"Shamán go way, " volunteered an old fellow who hitherto had held hispeace; "all get sick"--he coughed painfully--"heap Pymeuts die. "

"Father Wills come. " Nicholas took up the tale afresh. "Shamán come. Father Wills heap mad. He no let Shamán stay. "

"No; him say, 'Go! plenty quick, plenty far. Hey, you! _Mush!_'"

They smoked awhile in silence broken only by coughs. 

"Shamán say, 'Yukon Inua plenty mad. '"

"Who is Yukon Inua? Where does he live?"

"Unner Yukon ice, " whispered Nicholas. "Oh, the river spirit?... Ofcourse. "

"Him heap strong. Long time"--he motioned back into the ages with oneslim brown hand--"fore Holy Cross here, Yukon Inua take good carePymeuts. "

"No tell Father Wills?"

"No. "

Then in a low guttural voice: "Shamán come again. "

"Gracious! When?"

"To-night. "

"Jiminny Christmas!"

They sat and smoked and coughed. By-and-by, as if wishing thoroughly tojustify their action, Nicholas resumed:

"You savvy, ol' father try white medicine--four winter, four summer. Nogood. Ol' father say, 'Me well man? Good friend Holy Cross, good friendRussian mission. Me ol'? me sick? Send for Shamán. '"

The entire company grunted in unison. 

"You no tell?" Nicholas added with recurrent anxiety. 

"No, no; they shan't hear through me. I'm safe. "

Presently they all got up, and began removing and setting back the hewnlogs that formed the middle of the floor. It then appeared that, underneath, was an excavation about two feet deep. In the centre, within a circle of stones, were the charred remains of a fire, and herethey proceeded to make another. 

As soon as it began to blaze, Yagorsha the Story-teller took the coveroff the smoke-hole, so the company was not quite stifled. 

A further diversion was created by several women crawling in, bringingfood for the men-folk, in old lard-cans or native wooden kantaks. Thesevessels they deposited by the fire, and with an exchange of grunts wentout as they had come. 

Nicholas wouldn't let the Boy undo his pack. 

"No, we come back, " he said, adding something in his own tongue to thecompany, and then crawled out, followed by the Boy. Their progress wasslow, for the Boy's "Canadian webfeet" had been left in the Kachime, and he sank in the snow at every step. Twice in the dusk he stumbledover an ighloo, or a sled, or some sign of humanity, and asked of thenow silent, preoccupied Nicholas, "Who lives here?" The answer hadbeen, "Nobody; all dead. "

The Boy was glad to see approaching, at last, a human figure. It cameshambling through the snow, with bent head and swaying, jerking gait, looked up suddenly and sheered off, flitting uncertainly onward, in thedim light, like a frightened ghost. 

"Who is that?"

"Shamán. Him see in dark all same owl. Him know you white man. "

The Boy stared after him. The bent figure of the Shamán looked like ahuge bat flying low, hovering, disappearing into the night. 

"Those your dogs howling?" the visitor asked, thinking that for sheerdismalness Pymeut would be hard to beat. 

Nicholas stopped suddenly and dropped down; the ground seemed to openand swallow him. The Boy stooped and saw his friend's feet disappearingin a hole. He seized one of them. "Hold on; wait for me!"

Nicholas kicked, but to no purpose; he could make only such progress ashis guest permitted. 

Presently a gleam. Nicholas had thrust away the flap at the tunnel'send, and they stood in the house of the Chief of the Pymeuts, thatnative of whom Father Wills had said, "He is the richest and mostintelligent man of his tribe. "

The single room seemed very small after the spaciousness of theKachime, but it was the biggest ighloo in the settlement. 

A fire burnt brightly in the middle of the earthen floor, and over itwas bending Princess Muckluck, cooking the evening meal. She nodded, and her white teeth shone in the blaze. Over in the corner, wrapped inskins, lay a man on the floor groaning faintly. The salmon, toasting onsticks over wood coals, smelt very appetising. 

"Why, your fish are whole. Don't you clean 'em first?" asked thevisitor, surprised out of his manners. 

"No, " said Nicholas; "him better no cut. "

They sat down by the fire, and the Princess waited on them. The Boydiscovered that it was perfectly true. Yukon salmon broiled in theirskins over a birch fire are the finest eating in the world, and any"other way" involves a loss of flavour. 

He was introduced for the first time to the delights of reindeer"back-fat, " and found even that not so bad. 

"You are lucky, Nicholas, to have a sister--such a nice one, too"--(thePrincess giggled)--"to keep house for you. "

Nicholas understood, at least, that politeness was being offered, andhe grinned. 

"I've got a sister myself. I'll show you her picture some day. I careabout her a lot. I've come up here to make a pile so that we can buyback our old place in Florida. "

He said this chiefly to the Princess, for she evidently had profitedmore by her schooling, and understood things quite like a Christian. 

"Did you ever eat an orange, Princess?" he continued. 

"Kind o' fish?"

"No, fruit; a yella ball that grows on a tree. "

"Me know, " said Nicholas; "me see him in boxes St. Michael's. Himbully. "

"Yes. Well, we had a lot of trees all full of those yella balls, and weused to eat as many as we liked. We don't have much winter down where Ilive--summer pretty nearly all the time. "

"I'd like go there, " said the girl. 

"Well, will you come and see us, Muckluck? When I've found a gold-mineand have bought back the Orange Grove, my sister and me are goin' tolive together, like you and Nicholas. "

"She look like you?"

"No; and it's funny, too, 'cause we're twins. "

"Twins! What's twins?"

"Two people born at the same time. "

"No!" ejaculated Nicholas. 

"Why, yes, and they always care a heap about each other when they'retwins. "

But Muckluck stared incredulously. 

"_Two_ at the same time!" she exclaimed. "It's like that, then, in yourcountry?"

The Boy saw not astonishment alone, but something akin to disgust inthe face of the Princess. He felt, vaguely, he must justify histwinship. 

"Of course; there's nothing strange about it; it happens quite often. "

"_Often?_"

"Yes; people are very much pleased. Once in a while there are eventhree--"

"All at the same time!" Her horror turned into shrieks of laughter. "Why, your women are like our dogs! Human beings and seals never havemore than one at a time!"

The old man in the corner began to moan and mutter feverishly. Nicholaswent to him, bent down, and apparently tried to soothe him. Muckluckgathered up the supper-things and set them aside. 

"You were at the Holy Cross school?" asked the Boy. 

"Six years--with Mother Aloysius and the Sisters. They very good. "

"So you're a Catholic, then?"

"Oh yes. "

"You speak the best English I've heard from a native. "

"I love Sister Winifred. I want to go back--unless"--she regarded theBoy with a speculative eye--"unless I go your country. "

The sick man began to talk deliriously, and lifted up a terrible oldface with fever-bright eyes glaring through wisps of straight grayhair. No voice but his was heard for some time in the ighloo, then, "Ifraid, " said Muckluck, crouching near the fire, but with head turnedover shoulder, staring at the sick man. 

"No wonder, " said the Boy, thinking such an apparition enough tofrighten anybody. 

"Nicholas 'fraid, too, " she whispered, "when the devil talks. "

"The devil?"

"Yes. Sh! You hear?"

The delirious chatter went on, rising to a scream. Nicholas camehurrying back to the fire with a look of terror in his face. 

"Me go get Shamán. "

"No; he come soon. " Muckluck clung to him. 

They both crouched down by the fire. 

"You 'fraid he'll die before the Shamán gets here?"

"Oh no, " said Muckluck soothingly, but her face belied her words. 

The sick man called hoarsely. Nicholas got him some water, and proppedhim up to drink. He glared over the cup with wild eyes, his teethchattering against the tin. The Boy, himself, felt a creep go down hisspine. 

Muckluck moved closer to him. 

"Mustn't say he die, " she whispered. "If Nicholas think he die, he draghim out--leave him in the snow. " "Never!"

"Sh!" she made him a sign to be quiet. The rambling fever-talk went on, Nicholas listening fascinated. "No Pymeut, " she whispered, "like livein ighloo any more if man die there. "

"You mean, if they know a person's dying they haul him out o'doors--and _leave_ him a night like this?"

"If not, how get him out ... After?"

"Why, carry him out. "

"_Touch_ him? Touch _dead_ man?" She shuddered. "Oh, no. Bad, bad! I nothink he die, " she resumed, raising her voice. But Nicholas rejoinedthem, silent, looking very grave. Was he contemplating turning the poorold fellow out? The Boy sat devising schemes to prevent the barbarismshould it come to that. The wind had risen; it was evidently going tobe a rough night. 

With imagination full of sick people turned out to perish, the Boystarted up as a long wail came, muffled, but keen still with anguish, down through the snow and the earth, by way of the smoke-hole, into thedim little room. 

"Oh, Nicholas! what was that?"

"What?"

"Wait! Listen! There, that! Why, it's a child crying. "

"No, him Chèe. "

"Let's go and bring him in. "

"Bring dog in here?"

"Dog! That's no dog. "

"Yes, him dog; him my Chèe. "

"Making a human noise like that?"

Nicholas nodded. The only sounds for some time were the dolefullamenting of the Mahlemeut without, and the ravings of the Pymeut Chiefwithin. 

The Boy was conscious of a queer, dream-like feeling. All this had beengoing on up here for ages. It had been like this when Columbus cameover the sea. All the world had changed since then, except thesteadfast North. The Boy sat up suddenly, and rubbed his eyes. Withthat faculty on the part of the unlearned that one is tempted to call"American, " a faculty for assimilating the grave conclusions of thedoctors, and importing them light-heartedly into personal experience, he realised that what met his eyes here in Nicholas' house was one ofthe oldest pictures humanity has presented. This was what was going onby the Yukon, when King John, beside that other river, was yieldingMagna Charta to the barons. While the Caesars were building Rome thePymeut forefathers were building just such ighloos as this. WhilePheidias wrought his marbles, the men up here carved walrus-ivory, and, in lieu of Homer, recited "The Crow's Last Flight" and "The Legend ofthe Northern Lights. "

Nicholas had risen again, his mouth set hard, his small hands shaking. He unrolled an old reindeer-skin full of holes, and examined it. Atthis the girl, who had been about to make up the fire, threw down thebit of driftwood and hid her face. 

The sick man babbled on. 

Faint under the desolate sound another--sibilant, clearer, uncannilyhuman. Nicholas had heard, too, for he threw down the tattereddeerskin, and went to the other side of the fire. Voices in the tunnel. Nicholas held back the flap and gravely waited there, till one Pymeutafter another crawled in. They were the men the Boy had seen at theKachime, with one exception--a vicious-looking old fellow, thin, wiry, with a face like a smoked chimpanzee and eyes of unearthly brightness. He was given the best place by the fire, and held his brown claws overthe red coals while the others were finding their places. 

The Boy, feeling he would need an interpreter, signed to Muckluck tocome and sit by him. Grave as a judge she got up, and did as she wasbid. 

"That the Shamán?" whispered the Boy. 

She nodded. It was plain that this apparition, however hideous, hadgiven her great satisfaction. 

"Any more people coming?"

"Got no more now in Pymeut. "

"Where is everybody?"

"Some sick, some dead. "

The old Chief rambled on, but not so noisily. 

"See, " whispered Muckluck, "devil 'fraid already. He begin to speaksmall. "

The Shamán never once looked towards the sufferer till he himself wasthoroughly warm. Even then he withdrew from the genial glow, only tosit back, humped together, blinking, silent. The Boy began to feelthat, if he did finally say something it would be as surprising as tohear an aged monkey break into articulate speech. 

Nicholas edged towards the Shamán, presenting something in a birch-barkdish. 

"What's that?"

"A deer's tongue, " whispered Muckluck. 

The Boy remembered the Koyukun song, "Thanks for a good meal toKuskokala, the Shamán. "

Nicholas seemed to be haranguing the Shamán deferentially, but withspirit. He pulled out from the bottom of his father's bed three finemarten-skins, shook them, and dangled them before the Shamán. Theyproduced no effect. He then took a box of matches and a plug of theBoy's tobacco out of his pocket, and held the lot towards the Shamán, seeming to say that to save his life he couldn't rake up anotherearthly thing to tempt his Shamánship. Although the Shamán took theofferings his little black eyes glittered none the less rapaciously, asthey flew swiftly round the room, falling at last with a vicious snapand gleam upon the Boy. Then it was that for the first time he spoke. 

"Nuh! nuh!" interrupted Muckluck, chattering volubly, and evidentlycommending the Boy to the Shamán. Several of the old bucks laughed. 

"He say Yukon Inua no like you. "

"He think white men bring plague, bring devils. "

"Got some money?" whispered Muckluck. 

"Not here. "

The Boy saw the moment when he would be turned out. He plunged hishands down into his trousers pockets and fished up a knife, hissecond-best one, fortunately. 

"Tell him I'm all right, and he can give this to Yukon Inua with myrespects. "

Muckluck explained and held up the shining object, blades open, corkscrew curling attractively before the covetous eyes of the Shamán. When he could endure the temptation no longer his two black claws shotout, but Nicholas intercepted the much-envied object, while, as itseemed, he drove a more advantageous bargain. Terms finally settled, the Shamán seized the knife, shut it, secreted it with a final grunt, and stood up. 

Everyone made way for him. He jerked his loosely-jointed body over tothe sick man, lifted the seal-oil lamp with his shaky old hands, andlooked at the patient long and steadily. When he had set the lamp downagain, with a grunt, he put his black thumb on the wick and squeezedout the light. When he came back to the fire, which had burnt low, hepulled open his parki and drew out an ivory wand, and a long eagle'sfeather with a fluffy white tuft of some sort at the end. He depositedthese solemnly, side by side, on the ground, about two feet apart. 

Turning round to the dying fire, he took a stick, and with Nicholas'shelp gathered the ashes up and laid them over the smouldering brands. 

The ighloo was practically dark. No one dared speak save the yetunabashed devil in the sick man, who muttered angrily. It was curiousto see how the coughing of the others, which in the Kachime had beenpractically constant, was here almost silenced. Whether this wasachieved through awe and respect for the Shamán, or through nervousabsorption in the task he had undertaken, who shall say?

The Boy felt rather than saw that the Shamán had lain down between theivory wand and the eagle's feather. Each man sat as still as death, listening, staring, waiting. 

Presently a little jet of flame sprang up out of the ashes. The Shamánlifted his head angrily, saw it was no human hand that had dared turnon the light, growled, and pulled something else from under hisinexhaustible parki. The Boy peered curiously. The Shamán seemed to beshutting out the offensive light by wrapping himself up in something, head and all. 

"What's he doing now?" the Boy ventured to whisper under cover of thedevil's sudden loud remonstrance, the sick man at this point breakinginto ghastly groans. 

"He puts on the Kamlayka. Sh!"

The Shamán, still enveloped head and body, began to beat softly, keeping time with the eagle's feather. You could follow the faint gleamof the ivory wand, but on what it fell with that hollow sound no eyecould see. Now, at intervals, he uttered a cry, a deep bassdanger-note, singularly unnerving. Someone answered in a higher key, and they kept this up in a kind of rude, sharply-timed duet, till oneby one the whole group of natives was gathered into the swing of it, swept along involuntarily, it would seem, by some magnetic attractionof the rhythm. 

_"Ung hi yah! ah-ha-yah! yah-yah-yah!"_ was the chorus to that deep, recurrent cry of the Shamán. Its accompanying drum-note was muffledlike far-off thunder, conjured out of the earth by the ivory wand. 

Presently a scream of terror from the bundle of skins and bones in thecorner. 

"Ha!" Muckluck clasped her hands and rocked back and forth. 

"They'll frighten the old man to death if he's conscious, " said theBoy, half rising. 

She pulled him down. 

"No, no; frighten devil. " She was shaking with excitement and withecstacy. 

The sick man cried aloud. A frenzy seemed to seize the Shamán. Heraised his voice in a series of blood-curdling shrieks, then droppedit, moaning, whining, then bursting suddenly into diabolic laughter, bellowing, whispering, ventriloquising, with quite extraordinary skill. The dim and foetid cave might indeed be full of devils. 

If the hideous outcry slackened, but an instant, you heard the sick manraving with the preternatural strength of delirium, or of madresentment. For some time it seemed a serious question as to who wouldcome out ahead. Just as you began to feel that the old Chief was at theend of his tether, and ready to give up the ghost, the Shamán, risingsuddenly with a demoniac yell, flung himself down on the floor in aconvulsion. His body writhed horribly; he kicked and snapped andquivered. 

The Boy was for shielding Muckluck from the crazy flinging out of legsand arms; but she leaned over, breathless, to catch what words mightescape the Shamán during the fit, for these were omens of deepsignificance. 

When at last the convulsive movements quieted, and the Shamán lay likeone dead, except for an occasional faint twitch, the Boy realised forthe first time that the sick man, too, was dumb. Dead? The only soundnow was the wind up in the world above. Even the dog was still. 

The silence was more horrible than the hell-let-loose of a few minutesbefore. 

The dim group sat there, motionless, under the spell of the stillnesseven more than they had been under the spell of the noise. At last aqueer, indescribable scratching and scraping came up out of the bowelsof the earth. 

How does the old devil manage to do that? thought the Boy. But theplain truth was that his heart was in his mouth, for the sound camefrom the opposite direction, behind the Boy, and not near the Shamán atall. It grew louder, came nearer, more inexplicable, more awful. Hefelt he could not bear it another minute, sprang up, and stood there, tense, waiting for what might befall. Were _all_ the others dead, then?

Not a sound in the place, only that indescribable stirring of somethingin the solid earth under his feet. 

The Shamán had his knife. A ghastly sensation of stifling came over theBoy as he thought of a struggle down there under the earth and thesnow. 

On came the horrible underground thing. Desperately the Boy stirred thealmost extinct embers with his foot, and a faint glow fell on theterror-frozen faces of the natives, fell on the bear-skin flap. _Itmoved!_ A huge hand came stealing round. A hand? The skeleton of ahand--white, ghastly, with fingers unimaginably long. No mortal inPymeut had a hand like that--no mortal in all the world!

A crisp, smart sound, and a match blazed. A tall, lean figure rose upfrom behind the bear-skin and received the sudden brightness full inhis face, pale and beautiful, but angry as an avenging angel's. For aninstant the Boy still thought it a spectre, the delusion of abewildered brain, till the girl cried out, "Brother Paul!" and fellforward on the floor, hiding her face in her hands. 

"Light! make a light!" he commanded. Nicholas got up, dazed butobedient, and lit the seal-oil lamp. 

The voice of the white man, the call for light, reached the Shamán. Heseemed to shiver and shrink under the folds of the Kamlayka. Butinstead of getting up and looking his enemy in the face, he wriggledalong on his belly, still under cover of the Kamlayka, till he got tothe bear-skin, pushed it aside with a motion of the hooded head, andcrawled out like some snaky symbol of darkness and superstition fleeingbefore the light. 

"Brother Paul!" sobbed the girl, "don't, _don't_ tell Sister Winifred. "

He took no notice of her, bending down over the motionless bundle inthe corner. 

"You've killed him, I suppose?"

"Brother Paul--" began Nicholas, faltering. 

"Oh, I heard the pandemonium. " He lifted his thin white face to thesmoke-hole. "It's all useless, useless. I might as well go and leaveyou to your abominations. But instead, go _you_, all of you--go!" Heflung out his long arms, and the group broke and scuttled, huddlingnear the bear-skin, fighting like rats to get out faster than thenarrow passage permitted. 

The Boy turned from watching the instantaneous flight, the scuffle, andthe disappearance, to find the burning eyes of the Jesuit fixedfascinated on his face. If Brother Paul had appeared as a spectre inthe ighloo, it was plain that he looked upon the white face present atthe diabolic rite as dream or devil. The Boy stood up. The lay-brotherstarted, and crossed himself. 

"In Christ's name, what--who are you?"

"I--a--I come from the white camp ten miles below. "

"And you were _here_--you allowed this? Ah-h!" He flung up his arms, the pale lips moved convulsively, but no sound came forth. 

"I--you think I ought to have interfered?" began the Boy. 

"I think--" the Brother began bitterly, checked himself, knelt down, and felt the old man's pulse. 

Nicholas at the bear-skin was making the Boy signs to come. 

The girl was sobbing with her face on the ground. Again Nicholasbeckoned, and then disappeared. There seemed to be nothing to do but tofollow his host. When the bear-skin had dropped behind the Boy, and hecrawled after Nicholas along the dark passage, he heard the muffledvoice of the girl praying: "Oh, Mary, Mother of God, don't let him tellSister Winifred. "

CHAPTER VI

A PENITENTIAL JOURNEY

 "... Certain London parishes still receive £12 per annum for fagots to burn heretics. "--JOHN RICHARD GREEN. 

The Boy slept that night in the Kachime beside a very moody, restlesshost. Yagorsha dispensed with the formality of going to bed, and seemedbent on doing what he could to keep other people awake. He satmonologuing under the seal lamp till the Boy longed to throw the dishof smouldering oil at his head. But strangely enough, when, throughsheer fatigue, his voice failed and his chin fell on his broad chest, alad of fourteen or so, who had also had difficulty to keep awake, wouldjog Yagorsha's arm, repeating interrogatively the last phrase used, whereon the old Story-Teller would rouse himself and begin afresh, withan iteration of the previous statement. If the lad failed to keep himgoing, one or other of the natives would stir uneasily, lift a headfrom under his deerskin, and remonstrate. Yagorsha, opening his eyeswith a guilty start, would go on with the yarn. When morning came, andthe others waked, Yagorsha and the lad slept. 

Nicholas and all the rest who shared the bench at night, and the firein the morning, seemed desperately depressed and glum. A heavy cloudhung over Pymeut, for Pymeut was in disgrace. 

About sunset the women came in with the kantaks and the lard-cans. Yagorsha sat up and rubbed his eyes. He listened eagerly, while theothers questioned the women. The old Chief wasn't dead at all. No, hewas much better. Brother Paul had been about to all the house-boundsick people, and given everybody medicine, and flour, and a terriblescolding. Oh yes, he was angrier than anybody had ever been before. Some natives from the school at Holy Cross were coming for himtomorrow, and they were all going down river and across the southernportage to the branch mission at Kuskoquim. 

"Down river? Sure?"

Yes, sure. Brother Paul had not waited to come with those others, beingso anxious to bring medicine and things to Ol' Chief quick; and thiswas how he was welcomed back to the scene of his labours. A Devil'sDance was going on! That was what he called it. 

"You savvy?" said Nicholas to his guest. "Brother Paul go plenty soon. You wait. "

I'll have company back to camp, was the Boy's first thought, andthen--would there be any fun in that after all? It was plain BrotherPaul was no such genial companion as Father Wills. 

And so it was that he did not desert Nicholas, although Brother Paul'scompanions failed to put in an appearance on the following morning. However, on the third day after the incident of the Shamán (who seemedto have vanished into thin air), Brother Paul shook the snow of Pymeutfrom his feet, and with three Indians from the Holy Cross school and adog-team, he disappeared from the scene. Not till he had been gone sometime did Nicholas venture to return to the parental roof. 

They found Muckluck subdued but smiling, and the old man astonishinglybetter. It looked almost as if he had turned the corner, and wasgetting well. 

There was certainly something very like magic in such a recovery, butit was quickly apparent that this aspect of the case was not whatoccupied Nicholas, as he sat regarding his parent with a keen andspeculative eye. He asked him some question, and they discussed thepoint volubly, Muckluck following the argument with close attention. Presently it seemed that father and son were taking the guest intoconsideration. Muckluck also turned to him now and then, and by-and-byshe said: "I think he go. "

"Go where?"

"Holy Cross, " said the old man eagerly. 

"Brother Paul, " Nicholas explained. "He go _down_ river. We get HolyCross--more quick. "

"I see. Before he can get back. But why do you want to go?"

"See Father Brachet. "

"Sister Winifred say: 'Always tell Father Brachet; then everything allright, '" contributed Muckluck. 

"You tell Pymeut belly solly, " the old Chief said. 

"Nicholas know he not able tell all like white man, " Muckluckcontinued. "Nicholas say you good--hey? you good?"

"Well--a--pretty tollable, thank you. "

"You go with Nicholas; you make Father Brachet unnerstan'--forgive. Tell Sister Winifred--" She stopped, perplexed, vaguely distrustful atthe Boy's chuckling. 

"You think we can explain it all away, hey?" He made a gesture of happyclearance. "Shamán and everything, hey?"

"Me no can, " returned Nicholas, with engaging modesty. "_You_--" Heconveyed a limitless confidence. 

"Well, I'll be jiggered if I don't try. How far is it?"

"Go slow--one sleep. "

"Well, we won't go slow. We've got to do penance. When shall we start?"

"Too late now. Tomalla, " said the Ol' Chief. 

 * * * * *

They got up very early--it seemed to the Boy like the middle of thenight--stole out of the dark Kachime, and hurried over the hard crustthat had formed on the last fall of snow, down the bleak, dim slope tothe Ol' Chief's, where they were to breakfast. 

Not only Muckluck was up and doing, but the Ol' Chief seemed galvanisedinto unwonted activity. He was doddering about between his bed and thefire, laying out the most imposing parkis and fox-skins, fur blankets, and a pair of seal-skin mittens, all of which, apparently, he had hadsecreted under his bed, or between it and the wall. 

They made a sumptuous breakfast of tea, the last of the bacon the Boyhad brought, and slapjacks. 

The Boy kept looking from time to time at the display of furs. FatherWills was right; he ought to buy a parki with a hood, but he had meantto have the priest's advice, or Mac's, at least, before investing. Ol'Chief watching him surreptitiously, and seeing he was no nearer makingan offer, felt he should have some encouragement. He picked up theseal-skin mittens and held them out. 

"Present, " said Ol' Chief. "You tell Father Brachet us belly solly. "

"Oh, I'll handle him without gloves, " said the Boy, giving back themittens. But Ol' Chief wouldn't take them. He was holding up thesmaller of the two parkis. 

"You no like?"

"Oh, very nice. "

"You no buy?"

"You go sleep on trail, " said Nicholas, rising briskly. "You die, noparki. "

The Boy laughed and shook his head, but still Ol' Chief held out thedeer-skin shirt, and caressed the wolf-fringe of the hood. 

"Him cheap. "

"How cheap?"

"Twenty-fi' dollah. "

"Don't know as I call that cheap. "

"Yes, " said Nicholas. "St. Michael, him fifty dollah. "

The Boy looked doubtful. 

"I saw a parki there at the A. C. Store about like this for twenty. "

"A. C. Parki, peeluck, " Nicholas said contemptuously. Then patting theone his father held out, "You wear _him_ fifty winter. "

"Lord forbid! Anyhow, I've only got about twenty dollars' worth oftobacco and stuff along with me. "

"Me come white camp, " Nicholas volunteered. "Me get more fi' dollah. "

"Oh, will you? Now, that's very kind of you. " But Nicholas, imperviousto irony, held out the parki. The Boy laughed, and took it. Nicholasstooped, picked up the fur mittens, and, laying them on the Boy's arm, reiterated his father's "Present!" and then departed to the Kachime tobring down the Boy's pack. 

The Princess meanwhile had withdrawn to her own special corner, wherein the daytime appeared only a roll of plaited mats, and a little, cheap, old hat-box, which she evidently prized most of all she had inthe world. 

"You see? Lock!"

The Boy expressed surprise and admiration. 

"No! Really! I call that fine. "

"I got present for Father Brachet"; and turning over the rags andnondescript rubbish of the hat-box, she produced an object whose usewas not immediately manifest. A section of walrus ivory about sixinches long had been cut in two. One of these curved halves had beenmounted on four ivory legs. In the upper flat side had been stuck, atequal distances from the two ends and from each other, two delicatebranches of notched ivory, standing up like horns. Between these sat anivory mannikin, about three inches long, with a woeful countenance andwith arms held out like one beseeching mercy. 

"It's fine, " said the Boy, "but--a--what's it for? Just look pretty?"

"Wait, I show you. " She dived into the hat-box, and fished up a bit ofbattered pencil. With an air of pride, she placed the pencil across theoutstretched hands of the ivory suppliant, asking the Boy in dumb-show, was not this a pen-rest that might be trusted to melt the heart of theHoly Father?

"This way, too. " She illustrated how anyone embarrassed by thepossession of more than one pencil could range them in tiers on theivory horns above the head of the Woeful One. 

"I call that scrumptious! And he looks as if he was saying he was sorryall the time. "

She nodded, delighted that the Boy comprehended the subtle symbolism. 

"One more!" she said, showing her dazzling teeth. Like a child playinga game, she half shut the hat-box and hugged it lovingly. Then witheyes sparkling, slowly the small hand crept in--was thrust down theside and drew out with a rapturous "Ha!" a gaudy advertisement card, setting forth the advantages of smoking "Kentucky Leaf" She looked atit fondly. Then slowly, regretfully, all the fun gone now, she passedit to the Boy. 

"For Sister Winifred!" she said, like one who braces herself to makesome huge renunciation. "You tell her I send with my love, and I alwayssay my prayers. I very good. Hey? You tell Sister Winifred?"

"_Sure_, " said the Boy. 

The Ol' Chief was pulling the other parki over his head. Nicholasreappeared with the visitor's effects. Under the Boy's eyes, he calmlyconfiscated all the tea and tobacco. But nothing had been touched inthe owner's absence. 

"Look here: just leave me enough tea to last till I get home. I'll makeit up to you. "

Nicholas, after some reflection, agreed. Then he bustled about, gathered together an armful of things, and handed the Boy a tea-kettleand an axe. 

"You bring--dogs all ready. Mush!" and he was gone. 

To the Boy's surprise, while he and Muckluck were getting the food andpresents together, the lively Ol' Chief--so lately dying--made off, ina fine new parki, on all fours, curious, no doubt, to watch thepreparations without. 

But not a bit of it. The Ol' Chief's was a more intimate concern in theexpedition. When the Boy joined him, there he was sitting up inNicholas's sled, appallingly emaciated, but brisk as you please, ordering the disposition of the axe and rifle along either side, thetea-kettle and grub between his feet, showing how the deer-skinblankets should be wrapped, and especially was he dictatorial about thelashing of the mahout. 

"How far's he comin'?" asked the Boy, astonished. 

"All the way, " said Muckluck. "He want to be _sure_. "

Several bucks came running down from the Kachime, and stood about, coughed and spat, and offered assistance or advice. When at last Ol'Chief was satisfied with the way the raw walrus-hide was laced andlashed, Nicholas cracked his whip and shouted, "Mush! God-damn! Mush!"

"Good-bye, Princess. We'll take care of your father, though I'm sure heoughtn't to go. "

"Oh yes, " answered Muckluck confidently; then lower, "Shamán make allwell quick. Hey? Goo'-bye. "

"Good-bye. "

"Don't forget tell Sister Winifred I say my p--" But the Boy had to runto keep up with the sled. 

For some time he kept watching the Ol' Chief with unabatedastonishment, wondering if he'd die on the way. But, after all, theopen-air cure was tried for his trouble in various other parts of theworld--why not here?

There was no doubt about it, Nicholas had a capital team of dogs, andknew how to drive them. Two-legged folk often had to trot prettybriskly to keep up. Pymeut was soon out of sight. 

"Nicholas, what'll you take for a couple o' your dogs?"

"No sell. "

"Pay you a good long price. "

"No sell. "

"Well, will you help me to get a couple?"

"Me try"; but he spoke dubiously. 

"What do they cost?"

"Good leader cost hunder and fifty in St. Michael. "

"You don't mean dollahs?"

"Mean dollahs. "

"Come off the roof!"

But Nicholas seemed to think there was no need. 

"You mean that if I offer you a hundred and fifty dollahs for yourleader, straight off, this minute, you won't take it?"

"No, no take, " said the Prince, stolidly. 

And his friend reflected. Nicholas without a dog-team would bepractically a prisoner for eight months of the year, and not only that, but a prisoner in danger of starving to death. After all, perhaps adog-team in such a country _was_ priceless, and the Ol' Chief wastravelling in truly royal style. 

However, it was stinging cold, and running after those expensive dogswas an occupation that palled. By-and-by, "How much is your sledworth?" he asked Ol' Chief. 

"Six sables, " said the monarch. 

 * * * * *

It was a comfort to sight a settlement off there on the point. 

"What's this place?"

"Fish-town. "

"Pymeuts there?"

"No, all gone. Come back when salmon run. "

Not a creature there, as Nicholas had foretold--a place built wilfullyon the most exposed point possible, bleak beyond belief. If you openyour mouth at this place on the Yukon, you have to swallow a hurricane. The Boy choked, turned his back to spit out the throttling blast, andwhen he could catch his breath inquired:

"This a good place for a village?"

"Bully. Wind come, blow muskeetah--"

Nicholas signified a remote destination with his whip. 

"B'lieve you! This kind o' thing would discourage even a mosquito. "

In the teeth of the blast they went past the Pymeut Summer Resort. Unlike Pymeut proper, its cabins were built entirely above ground, oflogs unchinked, its roofs of watertight birch-bark. 

A couple of hours farther on Nicholas permitted a halt on the edge of astruggling little grove of dwarfed cotton-wood. 

The kettle and things being withdrawn from various portions of the Ol'Chief's person, he, once more warmly tucked up and tightly lashed down, drew the edge of the outer coverlid up till it met the wolf-skin fringeof his parki hood, and relapsed into slumber. 

Nicholas chopped down enough green wood to make a hearth. 

"What! bang on the snow?"

Nicholas nodded, laid the logs side by side, and on them built a fireof the seasoned wood the Boy had gathered. They boiled the kettle, madetea, and cooked some fish. 

Ol' Chief waked up just in time to get his share. The Boy, who had kepthanging about the dogs with unabated interest, had got up from the fireto carry them the scraps, when Nicholas called out quite angrily, "No!no feed dogs, " and waved the Boy off. 

"What! It's only some of my fish. Fish is what they eat, ain't it?"

"No feed now; wait till night. "

"What for? They're hungry. "

"You give fish--dogs no go any more. "

Peremptorily he waved the Boy off, and fell to work at packing up. Notunderstanding Nicholas's wisdom, the Boy was feeling a little sulky anddidn't help. He finished up the fish himself, then sat on his heels bythe fire, scorching his face while his back froze, or wheeling roundand singeing his new parki while his hands grew stiff in spite ofseal-skin mittens. 

No, it was no fun camping with the temperature at thirty degrees belowzero--better to be trotting after those expensive and dinnerless dogs;and he was glad when they started again. 

But once beyond the scant shelter of the cottonwood, it was evident thewind had risen. It was blowing straight out of the north and into theirfaces. There were times when you could lean your whole weight againstthe blast. 

After sunset the air began to fill with particles of frozen snow. Theydid not seem to fall, but continually to whirl about, and presentstinging points to the travellers' faces. Talking wasn't possible evenif you were in the humour, and the dead, blank silence of all nature, unbroken hour after hour, became as nerve-wearing as the cold andstinging wind. The Boy fell behind a little. Those places on his heelsthat had been so badly galled had begun to be troublesome again. Well, it wouldn't do any good to holla about it--the only thing to do was toharden one's foolish feet. But in his heart he felt that all thetime-honoured conditions of a penitential journey were being compliedwith, except on the part of the arch sinner. Ol' Chief seemed to begetting on first-rate. 

The dogs, hardly yet broken in to the winter's work, were growingdiscouraged, travelling so long in the eye of the wind. And Nicholas, in the kind of stolid depression that had taken possession of him, seemed to have forgotten even to shout "Mush!" for a very long time. 

By-and-by Ol' Chief called out sharply, and Nicholas seemed to wake up. He stopped, looked back, and beckoned to his companion. 

The Boy came slowly on. 

"Why you no push?"

"Push what?"

"Handle-bar. "

He went to the sled and illustrated, laying his hands on thearrangement at the back that stood out like the handle behind a baby'sperambulator. The Boy remembered. Of course, there were usually two menwith each sled. One ran ahead and broke trail with snow-shoes, but thatwasn't necessary today, for the crust bore. But the other man'sbusiness was to guide the sled from behind and keep it on the trail. 

"Me gottah drive, you gottah push. Dogs heap tired. "

Nicholas spoke severely. The Boy stared a moment at what he mentallycalled "the nerve of the fella, " laughed, and took hold, swallowingNicholas's intimation that he, after all, was far more considerate ofthe dogs than the person merely sentimental, who had been willing toshare his dinner with them. 

"How much farther?"

"Oh, pretty quick now. "

The driver cracked his whip, called out to the dogs, and suddenlyturned off from the river course. Unerringly he followed an invisibletrail, turning sharply up a slough, and went zig-zagging on withoutapparent plan. It was better going when they got to a frozen lake, andthe dogs seemed not to need so much encouragement. It would appear animpossible task to steer accurately with so little light; but once onthe other side of the lake it was found that Nicholas had hit awell-beaten track as neatly as a thread finds the needle's eye. 

Far off, out of the dimness, came a sound--welcome because it wassomething to break the silence but hardly cheerful in itself. 

"Hear that, Nicholas?"

"Mission dogs. "

Their own had already thrown up their noses and bettered the pace. 

The barking of the dogs had not only announced the mission to thetravellers, but to the mission a stranger at the gates. 

Before anything could be seen of the settlement, clumsy, fur-cladfigures had come running down the slope and across the ice, greetingNicholas with hilarity. 

Indian or Esquimaux boys they seemed to be, who talked some jargonunderstanded of the Pymeut pilot. The Boy, lifting tired eyes, sawsomething white glimmering high in the air up on the right river bank. In this light it refused to form part of any conceivable plan, but hungthere in the air detached, enigmatic, spectral. Below it, more onhumanity's level, could be dimly distinguished, now, the MissionBuildings, apparently in two groups with an open space in the middle. Where are the white people? wondered the Boy, childishly impatient. Won't they come and welcome us? He followed the Esquimaux and Indiansfrom the river up to the left group of buildings. With the heathenjargon beating on his ears, he looked up suddenly, and realized whatthe white thing was that had shone out so far. In the middle of theopen space a wooden cross stood up, encrusted with frost crystals, andlifting gleaming arms out of the gloom twenty feet or so above theheads of the people. 

"Funny thing for an Agnostic, " he admitted to himself, "but I'm rightglad to see a Christian sign. " And as he knocked at the door of the bigtwo-story log-house on the left he defended himself. "It's theswing-back of the pendulum after a big dose of Pymeut and heathentricks. I welcome it as a mark of the white man. " He looked over hisshoulder a little defiantly at the Holy Cross. Recognition of what thehigh white apparition was had given him a queer jolt, stirringunsuspected things in imagination and in memory. He had been accustomedto see that symbol all his life, and it had never spoken to him before. Up here it cried aloud and dominated the scene. "Humph!" he said tohimself, "to look at you a body'd think 'The Origin' had never beenwritten, and Spencer and Huxley had never been born. ' He knocked again, and again turned about to scan the cross. 

"Just as much a superstition, just as much a fetich as Kaviak'sseal-plug or the Shamán's eagle feather. With long looking at a coupleof crossed sticks men grow as dazed, as hypnotized, as Pymeuts watchinga Shamán's ivory wand. All the same, I'm not sure that faith in 'FirstPrinciples' would build a house like this in the Arctic Regions, andit's convenient to find it here--if only they'd open the door. "

He gave another thundering knock, and then nearly fell backwards intothe snow, for Brother Paul stood on the threshold holding up a lamp. 

"I--a--oh! How do you do? Can I come in?"

Brother Paul, still with the look of the Avenging Angel on his pale, young face, held the door open to let the Boy come in. Then, leaningout into the night and lifting the lamp high, "Is that Nicholas?" hesaid sternly. 

But the Pymeuts and the school-boys had vanished. He came in and setdown the lamp. 

"We--a--we heard you were going down river, " said the Boy, tamely, forhe had not yet recovered himself after such an unexpected blow. 

"Are you cold? Are you wet?" demanded Brother Paul, standing erect, unwelcoming, by the table that held the lamp. 

The Boy pulled himself together. 

"Look here"--he turned away from the comforting stove and confrontedthe Jesuit--"those Pymeuts are not only cold and wet and sick too, butthey're sorry. They've come to ask forgiveness. "

"It's easily done. "

Such scorn you would hardly expect from a follower of the meekGalilean. 

"No, not easily done, a penance like this. I know, for I've justtravelled that thirty miles with 'em over the ice from Pymeut. "

"You? Yes, it amuses you. "

The sombre eyes shone with a cold, disconcerting light. 

"Well, to tell you the truth, I've been better amused. "

The Boy looked down at his weary, wounded feet. And the others--wherewere his fellow pilgrims? It struck him as comic that the upshot of thejourney should be that he was doing penance for the Pymeuts, but hecouldn't smile with that offended archangel in front of him. 

"Thirty miles over the ice, in the face of a norther, hasn't been so'easy' even for me. And I'm not old, nor sick--no, nor frightened, Brother Paul. "

He flung up his head, but his heart failed him even while he made theboast. Silently, for a moment, they confronted each other. 

"Where are you bound for?"

"I--a--" The Boy had a moment of wondering if he was expected to answer"Hell, " and he hesitated. 

"Are you on your way up the river?"

"No--I" (was the man not going to let them rest their wicked bonesthere a single night?)--"a--I--"

The frozen river and the wind-racked wood were as hospitable as thebeautiful face of the brother. Involuntarily the Boy shivered. 

"I came to see the Father Superior. "

He dropped back into a chair. 

"The Father Superior is busy. "

"I'll wait. "

"And very tired. "

"So'm I. "

"--worn out with the long raging of the plague. I have waited till heis less harassed to tell him about the Pymeuts' deliberate depravity. Nicholas, too!--one of our own people, one of the first pupils of theschool, a communicant in the church; distinguished by a thousandkindnesses. And this the return!"

"The return is that he takes his backsliding so to heart, he can't restwithout coming to confess and to beg the Father Superior--"

"I shall tell the Father Superior what I heard and saw. He will agreethat, for the sake of others who are trying to resist temptation, anexample should be made of Nicholas and of his father. "

"And yet you nursed the old man and were kind to him, I believe, afterthe offense. "

"I--I thought you had killed him. But even you must see that we cannothave a man received here as Nicholas was--the most favoured child ofthe mission--who helps to perpetuate the degrading blasphemies of hisunhappy race. It's nothing to you; you even encourage--"

"'Pon my soul--" But Brother Paul struck in with an impassionedearnestness:

"We spend a life-time making Christians of these people; and such asyou come here, and in a week undo the work of years. "

"I--_I?_"

"It's only eighteen months since I myself came, but already I'veseen--" The torrent poured out with never a pause. "Last summer somewhite prospectors bribed our best native teacher to leave us and becomea guide. He's a drunken wreck now somewhere up on the Yukon Flats. Youtake our boys for pilots, you entice our girls away with trinkets--"

"Great Caesar! _I_ don't. "

But vain was protest. For Brother Paul the visitor was not a particularindividual. He stood there for the type of the vicious whiteadventurer. 

The sunken eyes of the lay-brother, burning, impersonal, saw not aparticular young man and a case compounded of mixed elements, but--TheEnemy! against whom night and day he waged incessant warfare. 

"The Fathers and Sisters wear out their lives to save these people. Weteach them with incredible pains the fundamental rules of civilization;we teach them how to save their souls alive. " The Boy had jumped up andlaid his hand on the door-knob. "_You_ come. You teach them to smoke--"

The Boy wheeled round. 

"I don't smoke. "

"... And to gamble. "

"Nicholas taught _me_ to gamble. Brother Paul, I swear--"

"Yes, and to swear and get drunk, and so find the shortest way tohell. "

"Father Brachet! Father Wills!" a voice called without. 

The door-knob turned under the Boy's hand, and before he could morethan draw back, a whiff of winter blew into the room, and a creaturestood there such as no man looks to find on his way to an Arctic goldcamp. A girl of twenty odd, with the face of a saint, dressed in theblack habit of the Order of St. Anne. 

"Oh, Brother Paul! you are wanted--wanted quickly. I think Catherine isworse; don't wait, or she'll die without--" And as suddenly as she camethe vision vanished, carrying Brother Paul in the wake of her streamingveil. 

The Boy sat down by the stove, cogitating how he should best set aboutfinding Nicholas to explain the failure of their mission.... What wasthat? Voices from the other side. The opposite door opened and a manappeared, with Nicholas and his father close behind, looking anythingbut cast down or decently penitential. 

"How do you do?" The white man's English had a strong French accent. Heshook hands with great cordiality. "We have heard of you from FatherWills also. These Pymeut friends of ours say you have something to tellme. "

He spoke as though this something were expected to be highlygratifying, and, indeed, the cheerfulness of Nicholas and his fatherwould indicate as much. 

As the Boy, hesitating, did not accept the chair offered, smiling, theJesuit went on:

"Will you talk of zis matter--whatever it is--first, or will you firstgo up and wash, and have our conference after supper?"

"No, thank you--a--Are you the Father Superior?"

He bowed a little ceremoniously, but still smiling. 

"I am Father Brachet. "

"Oh, well, Nicholas is right. The first thing to do is to explain whywe're here. "

Was it the heat of the stove after the long hours of cold that made himfeel a little dizzy? He put up his hand to his head. 

"I have told zem to take hot water upstairs, " the Father was saying, "and I zink a glass of toddy would be a good sing for you. " He slightlyemphasised the "you, " and turned as if to supplement the originalorder. 

"No, no!" the Boy called after him, choking a little, half withsuppressed merriment, half with nervous fatigue. "Father Brachet, ifyou're kind to us, Brother Paul will never forgive you. We're all indisgrace. "

"Hein! What?"

"Yes, we're all desperately wicked. "

"No, no, " objected Nicholas, ready to go back on so tactless anadvocate. 

"And Brother Paul has just been saying--"

"What is it, what is it?"

The Father Superior spoke a little sharply, and himself sat down in thewooden armchair he before had placed for his white guest. 

The three culprits stood in front of him on a dead level of iniquity. 

"You see, Father Brachet, Ol' Chief has been very ill--"

"I know. Much as we needed him here, Paul insisted on hurrying back toPymeut"--he interrupted himself as readily as he had interrupted theBoy--"but ze Ol' Chief looks lively enough. "

"Yes; he--a--his spirits have been raised by--a--what you will think anunwarrantable and wicked means. "

Nicholas understood, at least, that objectionable word "wicked"cropping up again, and he was not prepared to stand it from the Boy. 

He grunted with displeasure, and said something low to his father. 

"Brother Paul found them--found _us_ having a séance with the Shamán. "

Father Brachet turned sharply to the natives. 

"Ha! you go back to zat. "

Nicholas came a step forward, twisting his mittens and rolling his eyeexcitedly. 

"Us no wicked. Shamán say he gottah scare off--" He waved his armagainst an invisible army. Then, as it were, stung into plain speaking:"Shamán say _white man_ bring sickness--bring devils--"

"Maybe the old Orang Outang's right. "

The Boy drew a tired breath, and sat down without bidding in one of thewooden chairs. What an idiot he'd been not to take the hot grog and thehot bath, and leave these people to fight their foolishness out amongthemselves! It didn't concern him. And here was Nicholas talking awaycomfortably in his own tongue, and the Father was answering. A nativeopened the door and peeped in cautiously. 

Nicholas paused. 

"Hein!" said Father Brachet, "what is it!"

The Indian came in with two cups of hot tea and a cracker in eachsaucer. He stopped at the priest's side. 

"You get sick, too. Please take. Supper little late. " He nodded toNicholas, and gave the white stranger the second cup. As he was goingout: "Same man here in July. You know"--he tapped himself on the leftside--"man with sore heart. "

"Yansey?" said the priest quickly. "Well, what about Yansey?"

"He is here. "

"But no! Wiz zose ozzers?"

"No, I think they took the dogs and deserted him. He's just beenbrought in by our boys; they are back with the moose-meat. Sore heartworse. He will die. "

"Who's looking after him?"

"Brother Paul"; and he padded out of the room in his soft native shoes. 

"Then Brother Paul has polished off Catherine, " thought the Boy, "andhe won't waste much time over a sore heart. It behoves us to hurry upwith our penitence. " This seemed to be Nicholas's view as well. He wasbeginning again in his own tongue. 

"You know we like best for you to practise your English, " said thepriest gently; "I expect you speak very well after working so long onze John J. Healy. "

"Yes, " Nicholas straightened himself. "Me talk all same white man now. "(He gleamed at the Boy: "Don't suppose I need you and your perfidioustongue. ") "No; us Pymeuts no wicked!"

Again he turned away from the priest, and challenged the Boy to repeatthe slander. Then with an insinuating air, "Shamán no say you wicked, "he reassured the Father. "Shamán say Holy Cross all right. Cheechalkono good; Cheechalko bring devils; Cheechalko all same _him_, " he woundup, flinging subterfuge to the winds, and openly indicating hisfaithless ambassador. 

"Strikes me I'm gettin' the worst of this argument all round. BrotherPaul's been sailing into me on pretty much the same tack. "

"No, " said Nicholas, firmly; "Brother Paul no unnerstan'. _You_unnerstan'. " He came still nearer to the Father, speaking in afriendly, confidential tone. "You savvy! Plague come on steamboat upfrom St. Michael. One white man, he got coast sickness. Sun shining. Salmon run big. Yukon full o' boats. Two days: no canoe on river. Menall sit in tent like so. " He let his mittens fall on the floor, crouched on his heels, and rocked his head in his hands. Springing up, he went on with slow, sorrowful emphasis: "Men begin die--"

"Zen we come, " said the Father, "wiz nurses and proper medicine--"

Nicholas gave the ghost of a shrug, adding the damaging fact: "Sicknesscome to Holy Cross. "

The Father nodded. 

"We've had to turn ze schools into wards for our patients, " heexplained to the stranger. "We do little now but nurse ze sick andprepare ze dying. Ze Muzzer Superieure has broken down after heroiclabours. Paul, I fear, is sickening too. Yes, it's true: ze diseasecame to us from Pymeut. "

In the Father's mind was the thought of contagion courageously faced inorder to succour "the least of these my brethren. " In Nicholas's mindwas the perplexing fact that these white men could bring sickness, butnot stay it. Even the heap good people at Holy Cross were not saved bytheir deaf and impotent God. 

"Fathers sick, eight Sisters sick, boy die in school, three girl die. Holy Cross people kind--" Again he made that almost French motion ofthe shoulders. "Shamán say, 'Peeluck!' No good be kind to devils; scare'em--make 'em run. "

"Nicholas, " the priest spoke wearily, "I am ashamed of you. I soughtyou had learned better. Zat old Shamán--he is a rare old rogue. Whatdid you give him?"

Nicholas' mental processes may not have been flattering, but theirclearness was unmistakable. If Father Brachet was jealous of the rivalholy man's revenue, it was time to bring out the presents. 

Ol' Chief had a fine lynx-skin over his arm. He advanced at a word fromNicholas, and laid it down before the Father. 

"No!" said Father Brachet, with startling suddenness; "take it away andtry to understand. "

Nicholas approached trembling, but no doubt remembering how necessaryit had been to add to the Shamán's offering before he would consent tolisten with favour to Pymeut prayers, he pulled out of their respectivehiding--places about his person a carved ivory spoon and an embroideredbird-skin pouch, advanced boldly under the fire of the Superior's keeneyes and sharp words, and laid the further offering on the lynx-skin athis feet. 

"Take zem away, " said the priest, interrupting his brief homily andstanding up. "Don't you understand yet zat we are your friends wizzoutmoney and wizzout price? We do not want zese sings. Shamán takesivories from ze poor, furs from ze shivering, and food from zem zatstarve. And he gives nossing in return--nossing! Take zese sings away;no one wants zem at Holy Cross. "

Ol' Chief wiped his eyes pathetically. Nicholas, the picture ofdespair, turned in a speechless appeal to his despised ambassador. Before anyone could speak, the door-knob rattled rudely, and the bigbullet-head of a white man was put in. 

"Pardon, mon Père; cet homme qui vient de Minóok--faudrait le coucherde suite--mais où, mon Dieu, où?"

While the Superior cogitated, "How-do, Brother Etienne?" said Nicholas, and they nodded. 

Brother Etienne brought the rest of his heavy body half inside thedoor. He wore aged, weather-beaten breeches, and a black sweater overan old hickory shirt. 

"Ses compagnons l'ont laissé, là, je crois. Mais ça ne durera paslongtemps. "

"Faudra bien qu'il reste ici--je ne vois pas d'autre moyen, " said theFather. "Enfin--on verra. Attendez quelques instants. "

"C'est bien. " Brother Etienne went out. 

Ol' Chief was pulling the Boy's sleeve during the little colloquy, andsaying, "You tell. " But the Boy got up like one who means to make anend. 

"You haven't any time or strength for this--"

"Oh yes, " said Father Brachet, smiling, and arresting the impetuousmovement. "Ziz is--part of it. "

"Well, " said the Boy, still hesitating, "they _are_ sorry, you know, _really_ sorry. "

"You sink so?" The question rang a little sceptically. 

"Yes, I do, and I'm in a position to know. You'd forgive them if you'dseen, as I did, how miserable and overwhelmed they were when BrotherPaul--when--I'm not saying it's the highest kind of religion thatthey're so almighty afraid of losing your good opinion, but it--itgives you a hold, doesn't it?" And then, as the Superior said nothing, only kept intent eyes on the young face, the Boy wound up a littleangrily: "Unless, of course, you're like Brother Paul, ready to throwaway the power you've gained--"

"Paul serves a great and noble purpose--but--zese questions are--a--notin his province. " Still he bored into the young face with those kindgimlets, his good little eyes, and--

"You are--one of us?" he asked, "of ze Church?"

"No, I--I'm afraid I'm not of any Church. "

"Ah!"

"And I ought to take back 'afraid. ' But I'm telling you the truth whenI say there never were honester penitents than the Pymeuts. The wholeKachime's miserable. Even the girl, Ol' Chief's daughter she cried likeanything when she thought Sister--"

"Winifred?"

"Sister Winifred would be disappointed in her. "

"Ah, yes; Sister Winifred has zem--" he held out his hand, spread thefingers apart, and slowly, gently closed them. "Comme ça. "

"But what's the good of it if Brother Paul--"

"Ah, it is not just zere Paul comes in. But I tell you, my son, Pauldoes a work here no ozzer man has done so well. "

"He is a flint--a fanatic. "

"Fanatique!" He flung out an expressive hand. "It is a name, my son. Itoften means no more but zat a man is in earnest. Out of such a 'flint'we strike sparks, and many a generous fire is set alight. We all dowhat we can here at Holy Cross, but Paul will do what we cannot. "

"Well, give _me_--" He was on the point of saying "Father Wills, " butchanged it to "a man who is tolerant. "

"Tolerant? Zere are plenty to be tolerant, my son. Ze world is full. But when you find a man zat can _care_, zat can be 'fanatique'--ah! Itis"--he came a little nearer--"it is but as if I would look at you andsay, 'He has earnest eyes! He will go far _whatever_ road he follow. '"He drew off, smiling shrewdly. "You may live, my son, to be yourselfcalled 'fanatique. ' Zen you will know how little--"

"I!" the Boy broke in. "You are pretty wide of the mark this time. "

"Ah, perhaps! But zere are more trails zan ze Yukon for a fanatique. You have zere somesing to show me?"

"I promised the girl that cried so--I promised her to bring the Sisterthis. " He had pulled out the picture. In spite of the careful wrapping, it had got rather crumpled. The Father looked at it, and then a swiftglance passed between him and the Boy. 

"You could see it was like pulling out teeth to part with it. Can it goup there till the Sister sends for it?"

Father Brachet nodded, and the gorgeous worldling, counselling all mento "Smoke Kentucky Leaf!" was set up in the high place of honour on themantel-shelf, beside a print of the Madonna and the Holy Child. Nicholas cheered up at this, and Ol' Chief stopped wiping his eyes. While the Boy stood at the mantel with his back to Father Brachet, acting on a sudden impulse, he pulled the ivory pen-rest out of hisshirt, and stuck its various parts together, saying as he did so, "Shesent an offering to you, too. If the Ol' Chief an' I fail to convinceyou of our penitence, we're all willin' to let this gentleman plead forus. " Whereupon he wheeled round and held up the Woeful One before theFather's eyes. 

The priest grasped the offering with an almost convulsive joy, andinstantly turned his back that the Pymeuts might not see the laugh thattwisted up his humorous old features. The penitents looked at eachother, and telegraphed in Pymeut that after all the Boy had come up totime. The Father had refused the valuable lynx-skin and Nicholas'superior spoon, but was ready, it appeared, to look with favour onanything the Boy offered. 

But very seriously the priest turned round upon the Pymeuts. "I willjust say a word to you before we wash and go in to supper. " With akindly gravity he pronounced a few simple sentences about thegentleness of Christ with the ignorant, but how offended the HeavenlyFather was when those who knew the true God descended to idolatrouspractices, and how entirely He could be depended upon to punish wickedpeople. 

Ol' Chief nodded vigorously and with sudden excitement. "Me jus' likeGod. "

"Hein?"

"Oh, yes. Me no stan' wicked people. When me young me kill two ol'squaws--_witches!_" With an outward gesture of his lean claws he sweptthese wicked ones off the face of the earth, like a besom of the Lord. 

A sudden change had passed over the tired face of the priest. "Go, go!"he called out, driving the Pymeuts forth as one shoos chickens out of agarden. "Go to ze schoolhouse and get fed, for it's all you seem ableto get zere. "

But the perplexed flight of the Pymeuts was arrested. Brother Paul andBrother Etienne blocked the way with a stretcher. They all stood backto let the little procession come in. Nobody noticed them further, butthe Pymeuts scuttled away the instant they could get by. The Boy, equally forgotten, sat down in a corner, while the three priestsconferred in low-voiced French over the prostrate figure. 

"Father Brachet, " a weak voice came up from the floor. 

Brother Paul hurried out, calling Brother Etienne softly from the door. 

"I am here. " The Superior came from the foot of the pallet, and kneltdown near the head. 

"You--remember what you said last July?"

"About--"

"About making restitution. "

"Yes. "

"Well, I can do it now. "

"I am glad. "

"I've brought you the papers. That's why--I--_had_ to come. Willyou--take them--out of my--"

The priest unbuckled a travel-stained buckskin miner's belt and laid iton the floor. All the many pockets were empty save the long one in themiddle. He unbuttoned the flap and took out some soiled, worn-lookingpapers. "Are zese in proper form?" he asked, but the man seemed to havedropped into unconsciousness. Hurriedly the priest added: "Zere is notime to read zem. Ah! Mr. --will you come and witness zis last will andtestament?"

The Boy got up and stood near. The man from Minóok opened his eyes. 

"Here!" The priest had got writing materials, and put a pen into theslack hand, with a block of letter-paper under it. 

"I--I'm no lawyer, " said the faint voice, "but I think it's all--inshape. Anyhow--you write--and I'll sign. " He half closed his eyes, andthe paper slipped from under his hand. The Boy caught it, and set downthe faint words:--"will and bequeath to John M. Berg, Kansas City, myright and title to claim No. 11 Above, Little Minóok, Yukon Ramparts--"

And the voice fell away into silence. They waited a moment, and theSuperior whispered:

"Can you sign it?"

The dull eyes opened. "Didn't I--?"

Father Brachet held him up; the Boy gave him the pen and steadied thepaper. "Thank you, Father. Obliged to you, too. " He turned his dimmingeyes upon the Boy, who wrote his name in witness. "You--going toMinóok?"

"I hope so. "

The Father went to the writing-table, where he tied up and sealed thepacket. 

"Anybody that's going to Minóok will have to hustle. " The slang ofeveryday energy sounded strangely from dying lips--almost a whisper, and yet like a far-off bugle calling a captive to battle. 

The Boy leaned down to catch the words, yet fainter:

"Good claims going like hot cakes. "

"How much, " the Boy asked, breathless, "did you get out of yours?"

"Waiting till summer. Nex' summer--" The eyelids fell. 

"So it isn't a fake after all. " The Boy stood up. "The camp's allright!"

"You'll see. It will out-boom the Klondyke. "

"Ha! How long have you been making the trip?"

"Since August. "

The wild flame of enterprise sunk in the heart of the hearer. 

"Since _August_?"

"No cash for steamers; we had a canoe. She went to pieces up by--" Theweak voice fell down into that deep gulf that yawns waiting for man'slast word. 

"But there is gold at Minóok, you're sure? You've seen it?"

The Father Superior locked away the packet and stood up. But the Boywas bending down fascinated, listening at the white lips. "There isgold there?" he repeated. 

Out of the gulf came faintly back like an echo:

"Plenty o' gold there--plenty o' gold. "

"Jee-rusalem!" He stood up and found himself opposite the contemplativeface of the priest. 

"We have neglected you, my son. Come upstairs to my room. "

They went out, the old head bent, and full of thought; the young headhigh, and full of dreams. Oh, to reach this Minóok, where there was"plenty of gold, plenty of gold, " before the spring floods broughtthousands. What did any risk matter? Think of the Pymeuts doing theirsixty miles over the ice just to apologise to Father Brachet for beingPymeuts. This other, this white man's penance might, would involve agreater mortification of the flesh. What then? The reward wasproportionate--"plenty of gold. " The faint whisper filled the air. 

A little more hardship, and the long process of fortune-building isshortened to a few months. No more office grind. No more anxiety forthose one loves. 

Gold, plenty of gold, while one is young and can spend it gaily--goldto buy back the Orange Grove, to buy freedom and power, to buy wings, and to buy happiness!

On the stairs they passed Brother Paul and the native. 

"Supper in five minutes, Father. "

The Superior nodded. 

"There is a great deal to do, " the native went on hurriedly to Paul. "We've got to bury Catherine to-morrow--"

"And this man from Minóok, " agreed Paul, pausing with his hand on thedoor. 

CHAPTER VII

KAVIAK'S CRIME

 "My little son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes, And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, I struck him, and dismiss'd With hard words and unkiss'd.... "

Even with the plague and Brother Paul raging at the mission--even witheveryone preoccupied by the claims of dead and dying, the Boy wouldhave been glad to prolong his stay had it not been for "nagging"thoughts of the Colonel. As it was, with the mercury rapidly rising andthe wind fallen, he got the Pymeuts on the trail next day at noon, spent what was left of the night at the Kachime, and set off for campearly the following day. He arrived something of a wreck, and with anenormous respect for the Yukon trail. 

It did him good to sight the big chimney, and still more to see the bigColonel putting on his snow-shoes near the bottom of the hill, wherethe cabin trail met the river trail. When the Boss o' the camp lookedup and saw the prodigal coming along, rather groggy on his legs, hejust stood still a moment. Then he kicked off his web-feet, turned backa few paces uphill, and sat down on a spruce stump, folded his arms, and waited. Was it the knapsack on his back that bowed him so?

"Hello, Kentucky!"

But the Colonel didn't look up till the Boy got quite near, chanting inhis tuneless voice:

 "'Grasshoppah sett'n on a swee' p'tater vine, Swee' p'tater vine, swee' p'tater vine--'"

"What's the matter, hey, Colonel? Sorry as all that to see me back?"

"Reckon it's the kind o' sorrah I can bear, " said the Colonel. "Wethought you were dead. "

"You ought t' known me better. Were you just sendin' out a rescue-partyof one?"

The Colonel nodded. "That party would have started before, but I cut myfoot with the axe the day you left. Where have you been, in the name o'the nation?"

"Pymeut an' Holy Cross. "

"Holy Cross? Holy Moses! _You?_"

"Yes; and do you know, one thing I saw there gave me a serious nervousshock. "

"That don't surprise me. What was it?"

"Sheets. When I came to go to bed--a real bed, Colonel, on legs--Ifound I was expected to sleep between sheets, and I just aboutfainted. "

"That the only shock you had?"

"No, I had several. I saw an angel. I tell you straight, Colonel--youcan bank on what I'm sayin'--that Jesuit outfit's all right. "

"Oh, you think so?" The rejoinder came a little sharply. 

"Yes, sir, I just do. I think I'd be bigoted not to admit it. "

"So, you'll be thick as peas in a pod with the priests now?"

"Well, I'm the one that can afford to be. They won't convert _me!_ And, from my point o' view, it don't matter what a man is s' long's he's adecent fella. "

The Colonel's only answer was to plunge obliquely uphill. 

"Say, Boss, wait for me. "

The Colonel looked back. The Boy was holding on to a scrub willow thatput up wiry twigs above the snow. 

"Feel as if I'd never get up the last rungs o' this darn ice-ladder!"

"Tired? H'm! Something of a walk to Holy Cross even on a nice mild daylike this. " The Colonel made the reflection with obvious satisfaction, took off his knapsack, and sat down again. The Boy did the same. "Thevery day you lit out Father Orloff came up from the Russian mission. "

"What's he like?"

"Oh, little fella in petticoats, with a beard an' a high pot-hat, likea Russian. And that same afternoon we had a half-breed trader fellahere, with two white men. Since that day we haven't seen a humancreature. We bought some furs of the trader. Where'd you get yours?"

"Pymeut. Any news about the strike?"

"Well, the trader fella was sure it was all gammon, and told us storiesof men who'd sacrificed everything and joined a stampede, and gotsold--sold badly. But the two crazy whites with him--miners fromDakotah--they were on fire about Minóok. Kept on bragging they hadn'tcold feet, and swore they'd get near to the diggins as their dogs'dtake 'em. The half-breed said they might do a hundred miles more, butprobably wouldn't get beyond Anvik. "

"Crazy fools! I tell you, to travel even thirty miles on the Yukon inwinter, even with a bully team and old Nick to drive 'em, and not anextra ounce on your back--I tell you, Colonel, it's no joke. "

"B'lieve you, sonny. "

It wasn't thirty seconds before sonny was adding: "Did that half-breedthink it was any use our trying to get dogs?"

"Ain't to be had now for love or money. "

"Lord, Colonel, if we had a team--"

"Yes, I know. We'll probably owe our lives to the fact that wehaven't. "

It suddenly occurred to the Boy that, although he had just done apretty good tramp and felt he'd rather die than go fifty feet further, it was the Colonel who was most tired. 

"How's everybody?"

"Oh, I s'pose we might all of us be worse off. "

"What's the matter?"

He was so long answering that the Boy's eyes turned to follow theserious outward gaze of the older man, even before he lifted one handand swept it down the hill and out across the dim, grey prospect. 

"This, " said the Colonel. 

Their eyes had dropped down that last stretch of the steep snow slope, across the two miles of frozen river, and ran half round the widehorizon-line, like creatures in a cage. Whether they liked it orwhether they didn't, for them there was no way out. 

"It's the awful stillness. " The Colonel arraigned the distantice-plains. 

They sat there looking, listening, as if they hoped their protest mightbring some signal of relenting. No creature, not even a crystal-coatedwillow-twig, nothing on all the ice-bound earth stirred by as much as ahair; no mark of man past or present broke the grey monotony; no soundbut their two voices disturbed the stillness of the world. It was aquiet that penetrated, that pricked to vague alarm. Already both knewthe sting of it well. 

"It's the kind of thing that gets on a fella's nerves, " said theColonel. "I don't know as I ever felt helpless in any part of the worldbefore. But a man counts for precious little up here. Do you notice howyou come to listen to the silence?"

"Oh, yes, I've noticed. "

"Stop. " Again he lifted his hand, and they strained their ears. "I'vedone that by the hour since you left and the daft gold-diggers went uptrail after you. The other fellas feel it, too. Don't know what we'dhave done without Kaviak. Think we ought to keep that kid, you know. "

"I could get on without Kaviak if only we had some light. It's thisvillainous twilight that gets into my head. All the same, you know"--hestood up suddenly--"we came expecting to stand a lot, didn't we?"

The elder man nodded. "Big game, big stakes. It's all right. "

Eventless enough after this, except for the passing of an Indian ortwo, the days crawled by. 

The Boy would get up first in the morning, rake out the dead ashes, puton a couple of back-logs, bank them with ashes, and then build the firein front. He broke the ice in the water-bucket, and washed; filledcoffee-pot and mush-kettle with water (or ice), and swung them over thefire; then he mixed the corn-bread, put it in the Dutch oven, coveredit with coals, and left it to get on with its baking. Sometimes thispart of the programme was varied by his mixing a hoe-cake on a board, and setting it up "to do" in front of the fire. Then he would call theColonel--

 "'Wake up Massa, De day am breakin'; Peas in de pot, en de Hoe-cake bakin''"--

for it was the Colonel's affair to take up proceedings at thispoint--make the coffee and the mush and keep it from burning, fry thebacon, and serve up breakfast. 

Saturday brought a slight variation in the early morning routine. Theothers came straggling in, as usual, but once a week Mac was sure to befirst, for he had to get Kaviak up. Mac's view of his whole duty to manseemed to centre in the Saturday scrubbing of Kaviak. Vainly had theEsquimer stood out against compliance with this most repulsive offoreign customs. He seemed to be always ready with some deep-laidscheme for turning the edge of Mac's iron resolution. He tried hidingat the bottom of the bed. It didn't work. The next time he crouched farback under the lower bunk. He was dragged out. Another Saturday heembedded himself, like a moth, in a bundle of old clothes. Mac shookhim out. He had been very sanguine the day he hid in the library. Thiswas a wooden box nailed to the wall on the right of the door. Most ofthe bigger books--Byron, Wordsworth, Dana's "Mineralogy, " and twoBibles--he had taken out and concealed in the lower bunk veryskilfully, far back behind the Colonel's feet. Copps's "Mining" and thetwo works on "Parliamentary Law" piled at the end of the box served asa pillow. After climbing in and folding himself up into an incrediblysmall space, Kaviak managed with superhuman skill to cover himselfneatly with a patchwork quilt of _Munsey, Scribner, Century, Strand_, and _Overland_ for August, '97. No one would suspect, glancing intothat library, that underneath the usual top layer of light reading, wasmatter less august than Law, Poetry, Science, and Revelation. 

It was the base Byron, tipping the wink to Mac out of the back of thebunk, that betrayed Kaviak. 

It became evident that "Farva" began to take a dour pride in the Kid'sperseverance. One morning he even pointed out to the camp the stronglikeness between Kaviak and Robert Bruce. 

"No, sah; the Scottish chief had to have an object-lesson, butKaviak--Lawd!--Kaviak could give points to any spider livin'!"

This was on the morning that the Esquimer thought to escape scrubbing, even at the peril of his life, by getting up on to the swing-shelf--how, no man ever knew. But there he sat in terror, like avery young monkey in a wind-rocked tree, hardly daring to breathe, hisarms clasped tight round the demijohn; but having Mac to deal with, theend of it was that he always got washed, and equally always he seemedto register a vow that, s'help him, Heaven! it should never happenagain. 

After breakfast came the clearing up. It should have been done (underthis régime) by the Little Cabin men, but it seldom was. O'Flynn wasexpected to keep the well-hole in the river chopped open and to bringup water every day. This didn't always happen either, though to drinksnow-water was to invite scurvy, Father Wills said. There was also adaily need, if the Colonel could be believed, for everybody to chopfirewood. 

"We got enough, " was Potts' invariable opinion. 

"For how long? S'pose we get scurvy and can't work; we'd freeze todeath in a fortnight. "

"Never saw a fireplace swalla logs whole an' never blink like thisone. "

"But you got no objection to sittin' by while the log-swallerin' goeson. "

The Colonel or the Boy cooked the eternal beans, bacon and mush dinner, after whatever desultory work was done; as a matter of fact, there wasextraordinarily little to occupy five able-bodied men. The fun ofsnow-shoeing, mitigated by frostbite, quickly degenerated from a sportinto a mere means of locomotion. One or two of the party went hunting, now and then, for the scarce squirrel and the shy ptarmigan. Theytried, with signal lack of success, to catch fish, Indian fashion, through a hole in the ice. 

But, for the most part, as winter darkened round them, they loungedfrom morning till night about the big fireplace, and smoked, andgrowled, and played cards, and lived as men do, finding out a dealabout each other's characters, something about each other's opinions, and little or nothing about each other's history. 

In the appalling stillness of the long Arctic night, any passer-by washailed with enthusiasm, and although the food-supply in the Big Cabinwas plainly going to run short before spring, no traveller--white, Indian, or Esquimaux--was allowed to go by without being warmed andfed, and made to tell where he came from and whither he wasbound--questions to tax the sage. Their unfailing hospitality was notin the least unexpected or unusual, being a virtue practised even byscoundrels in the great North-west; but it strained the resources ofthe little camp, a fourth of whose outfit lay under the Yukon ice. 

In the state of lowered vitality to which the poor, ill-cooked food, the cold and lack of exercise, was slowly reducing them, they talked toone another less and less as time went on, and more and more--silentlyand each against his will--grew hyper-sensitive to the shortcomings andeven to the innocent "ways" of the other fellow. 

Not Mac's inertia alone, but his trick of sticking out his jaw becamean offence, his rasping voice a torture. The Boy's occasionalebullition of spirits was an outrage, the Colonel's mere sizeintolerable. O'Flynn's brogue, which had amused them, grew to be justpart of the hardship and barbarism that had overtaken them like an evildream, coercing, subduing all the forces of life. Only Kaviak seemedlikely to come unscathed through the ordeal of the winter's captivity;only he could take the best place at the fire, the best morsel atdinner, and not stir angry passions; only he dared rouse Mac when theNova Scotian fell into one of his bear-with-a-sore-head moods. Kaviakput a stop to his staring angrily by the hour into the fire, and sethim to whittling out boats and a top, thereby providing occupation forthe morrow, since it was one man's work to break Kaviak of spinning theone on the table during mealtime, and sailing the other in thedrinking-water bucket at all times when older eyes weren't watching. The Colonel wrote up his journal, and read the midsummer magazines andByron, in the face of Mac's "I do not like Byron's thought; I do notconsider him healthy or instructive. " In one of his more energeticmoods the Colonel made a four-footed cricket for Kaviak, who preferredit to the high stool, and always sat on it except at meals. 

Once in a while, when for hours no word had been spoken except somebroken reference to a royal flush or a jack-pot, or O'Flynn had said, "Bedad! I'll go it alone, " or Potts had inquired anxiously, "Got thejoker? Guess I'm euchred, then, " the Boy in desperation would catch upKaviak, balance the child on his head, or execute some other gymnastic, soothing the solemn little heathen's ruffled feelings, afterwards, bycrooning out a monotonous plantation song. It was that kind of additionto the general gloom that, at first, would fire O'Flynn to raise hisown spirits, at least, by roaring out an Irish ditty. But this wasseldomer as time went on. Even Jimmie's brogue suffered, and grew lessrobust. 

In a depressed sort of way Mac was openly teaching Kaviak his letters, and surreptitiously, down in the Little Cabin, his prayers. He was veryangry when Potts and O'Flynn eavesdropped and roared at Kaviak'sstruggles with "Ow Farva. " In fact, Kaviak did not shine as a studentof civilisation, though that told less against him with O'Flynn, thanthe fact that he wasn't "jolly and jump about, like white children. "Moreover, Jimmie, swore there was something "bogey" about the boy'sintermittent knowledge of English. Often for days he would utternothing but "Farva" or "Maw" when he wanted his plate replenished, thensuddenly he would say something that nobody could remember havingtaught him or even said in his presence. 

It was not to be denied that Kaviak loved sugar mightily, and stole itwhen he could. Mac lectured him and slapped his minute yellow hands, and Kaviak stole it all the same. When he was bad--that is, when he hadeaten his daily fill of the camp's scanty store (in such a little placeit was not easy to hide from such a hunter as Kaviak)--he was takendown to the Little Cabin, smacked, and made to say "Ow Farva. " Nobodycould discover that he minded much, though he learnt to try to shortenthe ceremony by saying "I solly" all the way to the cabin. 

As a rule he was strangely undemonstrative; but in his own grave littlefashion he conducted life with no small intelligence, and learned, withan almost uncanny quickness, each man's uses from the Kaviak point ofview. The only person he wasn't sworn friends with was the handy-man, and there came to be a legend current in the camp, that Kaviak's firstattempt at spontaneously stringing a sentence under that roof was, "Megot no use for Potts. "

The best thing about Kaviak was that his was no craven soul. He wasobliged to steal the sugar because he lived with white people who werebigger than he, and who always took it away when they caught him. Butonce the sugar was safe under his shirt, he owned up without thesmallest hesitation, and took his smacking like a man. For the rest, heflourished, filled out, and got as fat as a seal, but never a whit lesssolemn. 

One morning the Colonel announced that now the days had grown so short, and the Trio were so late coming to breakfast, and nobody did any workto speak of, it would be a good plan to have only two meals a day. 

The motion was excessively unpopular, but it was carried by a plain, and somewhat alarming, exposition of the state of supplies. 

"We oughtn't to need as much food when we lazy round the fire all day, "said the Colonel. But Potts retorted that they'd need a lot more ifthey went on adoptin' the aborigines. 

They knocked off supper, and all but the aborigine knew what it meantsometimes to go hungry to bed. 

Towards the end of dinner one day late in December, when everybody elsehad finished except for coffee and pipe, the aborigine held up hisempty plate. 

"Haven't you had enough?" asked the Colonel mildly, surprised atKaviak's bottomless capacity. 

"Maw. " Still the plate was extended. 

"There isn't a drop of syrup left, " said Potts, who had drained thecan, and even wiped it out carefully with halves of hot biscuit. 

"He don't really want it. "

"Mustn't open a fresh can till to-morrow. "

"No, sir_ee_. We've only got--"

"Besides, he'll bust. "

Kaviak meanwhile, during this paltry discussion, had stood up on thehigh stool "Farva" had made for him, and personally inspected the bigmush-pot. Then he turned to Mac, and, pointing a finger like a straw(nothing could fatten those infinitesimal hands), he said gravely andfluently:

"Maw in de plenty-bowl. "

"Yes, maw mush, but no maw syrup. "

The round eyes travelled to the store corner. 

"We'll have to open a fresh can some time--what's the odds?"

Mac got up, and not only Kaviak watched him--for syrup was a luxury notexpected every day--every neck had craned, every pair of eyes hadfollowed anxiously to that row of rapidly diminishing tins, all thatwas left of the things they all liked best, and they still this side ofChristmas!

"What you rubber-neckin' about?" Mac snapped at the Boy as he came backwith the fresh supply. This unprovoked attack was ample evidence thatMac was uneasy under the eyes of the camp, angry at his own weakness, and therefore the readier to dare anybody to find fault with him. 

"How can I help watchin' you?" said the Boy. Mac lifted his eyesfiercely. "I'm fascinated by your winnin' ways; we're all like that. "Kaviak had meanwhile made a prosperous voyage to the plenty-bowl, andreturned to Mac's side--an absurd little figure in a strangepriest-like cassock buttoned from top to bottom (a waistcoat of Mac's), and a jacket of the Boy's, which was usually falling off (and trailedon the ground when it wasn't), and whose sleeves were rolled up ininconvenient muffs. Still, with a gravity that did not seem impaired bythese details, he stood clutching his plate anxiously with both hands, while down upon the corn-mush descended a slender golden thread, manipulated with a fine skill to make the most of its sweetness. Itcurled and spiralled, and described the kind of involved andlong-looped flourishes which the grave and reverend of a hundred yearsago wrote jauntily underneath the most sober names. 

Lovingly the dark eyes watched the engrossing process. Even when theattenuated thread was broken, and the golden rain descended in slow, infrequent drops, Kaviak stood waiting, always for just one drop more. 

"That's enough, greedy. "

"Now go away and gobble. "

But Kaviak daintily skimmed off the syrupy top, and left his mushalmost as high a hill as before. 

It wasn't long after the dinner, things had been washed up, and theColonel settled down to the magazines--he was reading theadvertisements now--that Potts drew out his watch. 

"Golly! do you fellers know what o'clock it is?" He held the opentimepiece up to Mac. "Hardly middle o' the afternoon. All these hoursbefore bedtime, and nothin' to eat till to-morrow!"

"Why, you've just finished--"

"But look at the _time!_"

The Colonel said nothing. Maybe he had been a little previous withdinner today; it was such a relief to get it out of the way. Oppressiveas the silence was, the sound of Potts's voice was worse, and as hekept on about how many hours it would be till breakfast, the Colonelsaid to the Boy:

"'Johnny, get your gun, ' and we'll go out. "

In these December days, before the watery sun had set, the great, rich-coloured moon arose, having now in her resplendent fulness quitethe air of snuffing out the sun. The pale and heavy-eyed day was put toshame by this brilliant night-lamp, that could cast such heavy shadows, and by which men might read. 

The instant the Big Cabin door was opened Kaviak darted out between theColonel's legs, threw up his head like a Siwash dog, sniffed at thefrosty air and the big orange moon, flung up his heels, and tore downto the forbidden, the fascinating fish-hole. If he hadn't got snared inhis trailing coat he would have won that race. When the two hunters hadcaptured Kaviak, and shut him indoors, they acted on his impliedsuggestion that the fish-trap ought to be examined. They chopped awaythe fresh-formed ice. Empty, as usual. 

It had been very nice, and neighbourly, of Nicholas, as long ago as the1st of December, to bring the big, new, cornucopia-shaped trap down onhis sled on the way to the Ikogimeut festival. It had taken a long timeto cut through the thick ice, to drive in the poles, and fasten theslight fencing, in such relation to the mouth of the sunken trap, thatall well-conducted fish ought easily to find their way thither. As amatter of fact, they didn't. Potts said it was because the Boy wasalways hauling out the trap "to see"; but what good would it be to haveit full of fish and not know?

They had been out about an hour when the Colonel brought down aptarmigan, and said he was ready to go home. The Boy hesitated. 

"Going to give in, and cook that bird for supper?"

It was a tempting proposition, but the Colonel said, rather sharply:"No, sir. Got to keep him for a Christmas turkey. "

"Well, I'll just see if I can make it a brace. "

The Colonel went home, hung his trophy outside to freeze, and found theTrio had decamped to the Little Cabin. He glanced up anxiously to seeif the demijohn was on the shelf. Yes, and Kaviak sound asleep in thebottom bunk. The Colonel would climb up and have forty winks in the topone before the Boy got in for their game of chess. He didn't know howlong he had slept when a faint scratching pricked through the veil ofslumber, and he said to himself, "Kaviak's on a raid again, " but he wastoo sodden with sleep to investigate. Just before he dropped off again, however, opening a heavy eye, he saw Potts go by the bunk, stop at thedoor and listen. Then he passed the bunk again, and the faint noiserecommenced. The Colonel dropped back into the gulf of sleep, nevereven woke for his chess, and in the morning the incident had passed outof his mind. 

Just before dinner the next day the Boy called out:

"See here! who's spilt the syrup?"

"Spilt it?"

"Syrup?"

"No; it don't seem to be spilt, either. " He patted the ground with hishand. 

"You don't mean that new can--"

"Not a drop in it. " He turned it upside down. 

Every eye went to Kaviak. He was sitting on his cricket by the firewaiting for dinner. He returned the accusing looks of the company withself-possession. 

"Come here. " He got up and trotted over to "Farva. "

"Have you been to the syrup?"

Kaviak shook his head. 

"You _must_ have been. "

"No. "

"You sure?"

He nodded. 

"How did it go--all away--Do you know?"

Again the silent denial. Kaviak looked over his shoulder at the dinnerpreparations, and then went back to his cricket. It was the best placefrom which to keep a strict eye on the cook. 

"The gintlemin don't feel conversaytional wid a pint o' surrup in hisinside. "

"I tell you he'd be currled up with colic if he--"

"Well, " said O'Flynn hopefully, "bide a bit. He ain't lookin' verybrash. "

"Come here. "

Kaviak got up a second time, but with less alacrity. 

"Have you got a pain?"

He stared. 

"Does it hurt you there?" Kaviak doubled up suddenly. 

"He's awful ticklish, " said the Boy. 

Mac frowned with perplexity, and Kaviak retired to the cricket. 

"Does the can leak anywhere?"

"That excuse won't hold water 'cause the can will. " The Colonel hadjust applied the test. 

"Besides, it would have leaked on to something, " Mac agreed. 

"Oh, well, let's mosy along with our dinner, " said Potts. 

"It's gettin' pretty serious, " remarked the Colonel. "We can't affordto lose a pint o' syrup. "

"No, _Siree_, we can't; but there's one thing about Kaviak, " said theBoy, "he always owns up. Look here, Kiddie: don't say no; don't shakeyour head till you've thought. Now, think _hard_. "

Kaviak's air of profound meditation seemed to fill every requirement. 

"Did you take the awful good syrup and eat it up?"

Kaviak was in the middle of a head-shake when he stopped abruptly. TheBoy had said he wasn't to do that. Nobody had seemed pleased when hesaid "No. "

"I b'lieve we're on the right track. He's remembering. Think again. Youare a tip-top man at finding sugar, aren't you?"

"Yes, fin' shugh. " Kaviak modestly admitted his prowess in thatdirection. 

"And you get hungry in the early morning?"

Yes, he would go so far as to admit that he did. 

"You go skylarkin' about, and you remember--the syrup can! And you gethold of it--didn't you?"

"To-malla. "

"You mean yesterday--this morning?"

"N--"

"Sh!"

Kaviak blinked. 

"Wait and think. Yesterday this was full. You remember Mac opened itfor you?"

Kaviak nodded. 

"And now, you see"--he turned the can bottom side up--"all gone!"

"Oh-h!" murmured Kaviak with an accent of polite regret. Then, withrecovered cheerfulness, he pointed to the store corner: "Maw!"

Potts laughed in his irritating way, and Mac's face got red. Thingsbegan to look black for Kaviak. 

"Say, fellas, see here!" The Boy hammered the lid on the can with hisfist, and then held it out. "It was put away shut up, for I shut it, and even one of us can't get that lid off without a knife or somethingto pry it. "

The company looked at the small hands doubtfully. They were none toolittle for many a forbidden feat. How had he got on the swing-shelf?How--

"Ye see, crayther, it must uv been yersilf, becuz there isn't annybuddyelse. "

"Look here, " said the Colonel, "we'll forgive you this time if you'llown up. Just tell us--"

"Kaviak!" Again that journey from the cricket to the judgment-seat. 

"Show us"--Mac had taken the shut tin, and now held it out--"show ushow you got the lid off. "

But Kaviak turned away. Mac seized him by the shoulder and jerked himround. 

Everyone felt it to be suspicious that Kaviak was unwilling even to tryto open the all too attractive can. Was he really cunning, and did hewant not to give himself away? Wasn't he said to be much older than helooked? and didn't he sometimes look a hundred, and wise for his years?

"See here: I haven't caught you in a lie yet, but if I do--"

Kaviak stared, drew a long breath, and seemed to retire within himself. 

"You'd better attend to me, for I mean business. "

Kaviak, recalled from internal communing, studied "Farva" a moment, andthen retreated to the cricket, as to a haven now, hastily and withmisgiving, tripping over his trailing coat. Mac stood up. 

"Wait, old man. " The Colonel stooped his big body till he was on alevel with the staring round eyes. "Yo' see, child, yo' can't have anydinnah till we find out who took the syrup. "

The little yellow face was very serious. He turned and looked at thestill smoking plenty-bowl. 

"Are yoh hungry?"

He nodded, got up briskly, held up his train, and dragged his highstool to the table, scrambled up, and established himself. 

"Look at that!" said the Colonel triumphantly. "That youngster hasn'tjust eaten a pint o' syrup. "

Mac was coming slowly up behind Kaviak with a face that nobody likedlooking at. 

"Oh, let the brat alone, and let's get to our grub!" said Potts, withan extreme nervous irritation. 

Mac swept Kaviak off the stool. "You come with me!"

Only one person spoke after that till the meal was nearly done. Thatone had said, "Yes, Farva, " and followed Mac, dinnerless, out to theLittle Cabin. 

The Colonel set aside a plateful for each of the two absent ones, andcleared away the things. Potts stirred the fire in a shower of sparks, picked up a book and flung it down, searched through the sewing-kit forsomething that wasn't lost, and then went to the door to look at theweather--so he said. O'Flynn sat dozing by the fire. He was in the wayof the washing-up. 

"Stir your stumps, Jimmie, " said the Colonel, "and get us a bucket ofwater. " Sleepily O'Flynn gave it as his opinion that he'd be damned ifhe did. 

With unheard-of alacrity, "I'll go, " said Potts. 

The Colonel stared at him, and, by some trick of the brain, he had avision of Potts listening at the door the night before, and thenresuming that clinking, scratching sound in the corner--the storecorner. 

"Hand me over my parki, will you?" Potts said to the Boy. He pulled itover his head, picked up the bucket, and went out. 

"Seems kind o' restless, don't he?"

"Yes. Colonel--"

"Hey?"

"Nothin'. "

Ten minutes--a quarter of an hour went by. 

"Funny Mac don't come for his dinner, isn't it? S'pose I go and look'em up?"

"S'pose you do. "

Not far from the door he met Mac coming in. 

"Well?" said the Boy, meaning, Where's the kid?

"Well?" Mac echoed defiantly. "I lammed him, as I'd have lammed RobertBruce if he'd lied to me. "

The Boy stared at this sudden incursion into history, but all he saidwas: "Your dinner's waitin'. "

The minute Mac got inside he looked round hungrily for the child. Notseeing him, he went over and scrutinised the tumbled contents of thebunks. 

"Where's Kaviak?"

"P'raps you'll tell us. "

"You mean he isn't here?" Mac wheeled round sharply. 

"_Here?_"

"He didn't come back here for his dinner?"

"Haven't seen him since you took him out. " Mac made for the door. TheBoy followed. 

"Kaviak!" each called in turn. It was quite light enough to see if hewere anywhere about, although the watery sun had sunk full half an hourbefore. The fantastically huge full-moon hung like a copper shield on asteel-blue wall. 

"Do you see anything?" whispered Mac. 

"No. "

"Who's that yonder?"

"Potts gettin' water. "

The Boy was bending down looking for tracks. Mac looked, too, butineffectually, feverishly. 

"Isn't Potts calling?"

"I knew he would if he saw us. He's never carried a bucket uphill yetwithout help. See, there are the Kid's tracks going. We must find someturned the other way. "

They were near the Little Cabin now. 

"Here!" shouted the Boy; "and ... Yes, here again!" And so it was. Clean and neatly printed in the last light snowfall showed the littlefootprints. "We're on the right trail now. Kaviak!"

Through his parki the Boy felt a hand close vise-like on his shoulder, and a voice, not like MacCann's:

"Goin' straight down to the fish-trap hole!"

The two dashed forward, down the steep hill, the Boy saying breathlessas they went: "And Potts--where's Potts?"

He had vanished, but there was no time to consider how or where. 

"Kaviak!"

"Kaviak!" And as they got to the river:

"Think I hear--"

"So do I--"

"Coming! coming! Hold on tight! Coming, Kaviak!"

They made straight for the big open fish-hole. Farther away from theLittle Cabin, and nearer the bank, was the small well-hole. Between thetwo they noticed, as they raced by, the water-bucket hung on that heavypiece of driftwood that had frozen aslant in the river. Mac saw thatthe bucket-rope was taut, and that it ran along the ice and disappearedbehind the big funnel of the fish-trap. 

The sound was unmistakable now--a faint, choked voice calling out ofthe hole, "Help!"

"Coming!"

"Hold tight!"

"Half a minute!"

And how it was done or who did it nobody quite knew, but Potts, stillclinging by one hand to the bucket-rope, was hauled out and laid on theice before it was discovered that he had Kaviak under his arm--Kaviak, stark and unconscious, with the round eyes rolled back till one saw thewhites and nothing more. 

Mac picked the body up and held it head downwards; laid it flat again, and, stripping off the great sodden jacket, already beginning tofreeze, fell to putting Kaviak through the action of artificialbreathing. 

"We must get them up to the cabin first thing, " said the Boy. 

But Mac seemed not to hear. 

"Don't you see Kaviak's face is freezing?"

Still Mac paid no heed. Potts lifted a stiff, uncertain hand, and, witha groan, let it fall heavily on his own cheek. 

"Come on; I'll help you in, anyhow, Potts. "

"Can't walk in this damned wet fur. "

With some difficulty having dragged off Potts' soaked parki, alreadystiffening unmanageably, the Boy tried to get him on his feet. 

"Once you're in the cabin you're all right. "

But the benumbed and miserable Potts kept his eyes on Kaviak, as ifhypnotised by the strange new death-look in the little face. 

"Well, I can't carry you up, " said the Boy; and after a second he beganto rub Potts furiously, glancing over now and then to see if Kaviak wascoming to, while Mac, dumb and tense, laboured on without success. Potts, under the Boy's ministering, showed himself restored enough toswear feebly. 

"H'ray! my man's comin' round. How's yours?" No answer, but he couldsee that the sweat poured off Mac's face as he worked unceasingly overthe child. The Boy pulled Potts into a sitting posture. It was thenthat Mac, without looking up, said:

"Run and get whiskey. Run like hell!"

When he got back with the Colonel and the whiskey, O'Flynn flounderingin the distance, Potts was feebly striking his breast with his arms, and Mac still bent above the motionless little body. 

They tried to get some of the spirit down the child's throat, but thetight-clenched teeth seemed to let little or nothing pass. The stuffran down towards his ears and into his neck. But Mac persisted, andwent on pouring, drop by drop, whenever he stopped trying to restorethe action of the lungs. O'Flynn just barely managed to get "a swig"for Potts in the interval, though they all began to feel that Mac wasworking to bring back something that had gone for ever. The Boy wentand bent his face down close over the rigid mouth to feel for thebreath. When he got up he turned away sharply, and stood lookingthrough tears into the fish-hole, saying to himself, "Yukon Inua hastaken him. "

"He was in too long. " Potts' teeth were chattering, and he lookedunspeakably wretched. "When my arm got numb I couldn't keep his headup;" and he swallowed more whiskey. "You fellers oughtn't to have leftthat damn trap up!"

"What's that got to do with it?" said the Boy guiltily. 

"Kaviak knew it ought to be catchin' fish. When I came down he wascryin' and pullin' the trap backwards towards the hole. Then heslipped. "

"Come, Mac, " said the Colonel quietly, "let's carry the little man tothe cabin. "

"No, no, not yet; stuffy heat isn't what he wants;" and he worked on. 

They got Potts up on his feet. 

"I called out to you fellers. Didn't you hear me?"

"Y-yes, but we didn't understand. "

"Well, you'd better have come. It's too late now. " O'Flynn halfdragged, half carried him up to the cabin, for he seemed unable to walkin his frozen trousers. The Colonel and the Boy by a common impulsewent a little way in the opposite direction across the ice. 

"What can we do, Colonel?"

"Nothing. It's not a bit o' use. " They turned to go back. 

"Well, the duckin' will be good for Potts' parki, anyhow, " said the Boyin an angry and unsteady voice. 

"What do you mean?"

"When he asked me to hand it to him I nearly stuck fast to it. It's allover syrup; and we don't wear furs at our meals. "

"Tchah!" The Colonel stopped with a face of loathing. 

"Yes, he was the only one of us that didn't bully the kid to-day. "

"Couldn't go _that_ far, but couldn't own up. "

"Potts is a cur. "

"Yes, sah. " Then, after an instant's reflection: "But he's a cur thatcan risk his life to save a kid he don't care a damn for. "

They went back to Mac, and found him pretty well worn out. The Coloneltook his place, but was soon pushed away. Mac understood better, hesaid; had once brought a chap round that everybody said was ... Dead. He wasn't dead. The great thing was not to give in. 

A few minutes after, Kaviak's eyelids fluttered, and came down over theupturned eyeballs. Mac, with a cry that brought a lump to the Colonel'sthroat, gathered the child up in his arms and ran with him up the hillto the cabin. 

 * * * * *

Three hours later, when they were all sitting round the fire, Kaviakdosed, and warm, and asleep in the lower bunk, the door opened, and inwalked a white man followed by an Indian. 

"I'm George Benham. " They had all heard of the Anvik trader, a man ofsome wealth and influence, and they made him welcome. 

The Indian was his guide, he said, and he had a team outside of sevendogs. He was going to the steamship _Oklahoma_ on some business, andpromised Father Wills of Holy Cross that he'd stop on the way, anddeliver a letter to Mr. MacCann. 

"Stop on the way! I should think so. "

"We were goin' to have supper to-night, anyhow, and you'll stay andsleep here. "

All Mac's old suspicions of the Jesuits seemed to return with theadvent of that letter. 

"I'll read it presently. " He laid it on the mantel-shelf, between thesewing-kit and the tobacco-can, and he looked at it, angrily, every nowand then, while he helped to skin Mr. Benham. That gentleman had thrownback his hood, pulled off his great moose-skin gauntlets and hisbeaver-lined cap, and now, with a little help, dragged the drill parkiover his head, and after that the fine lynx-bordered deer-skin, standing revealed at last as a well-built fellow, of thirty-eight orso, in a suit of mackinaws, standing six feet two in his heellesssalmon-skin snow-boots. "Bring in my traps, will you?" he said to theIndian, and then relapsed into silence. The Indian reappeared with hisarms full. 

"Fine lot o' pelts you have there, " said the Colonel. 

Benham didn't answer. He seemed to be a close-mouthed kind of a chap. As the Indian sorted and piled the stuff in the corner, Potts said:

"Got any furs you want to sell?"

"No. "

"Where you takin' 'em?"

"Down to the _Oklahoma_. "

"All this stuff for Cap'n Rainey?"

Benham nodded. 

"I reckon there's a mistake about the name, and he's Cap'n Tom Thumb orCommodore Nutt. " The Boy had picked up a little parki made carefully ofsome very soft dark fur and trimmed with white rabbit, the small hoodbordered with white fox. 

"That's a neat piece of work, " said the Colonel. 

Benham nodded. "One of the Shageluk squaws can do that sort of thing. "

"What's the fur?"

"Musk-rat. " And they talked of the weather--how the mercury last weekhad been solid in the trading-post thermometer, so it was "over fortydegrees, anyhow. "

"What's the market price of a coat like that?" Mac said suddenly. 

"That isn't a 'market' coat. It's for a kid of Rainey's back in theStates. "

Still Mac eyed it enviously. 

"What part of the world are you from, sir?" said the Colonel when theyhad drawn up to the supper table. 

"San Francisco. Used to teach numskulls Latin and mathematics in theLas Palmas High School. "

"What's the value of a coat like that little one?" interrupted Mac. 

"Oh, about twenty dollars. "

"The Shageluks ask that much?"

Benham laughed. "If _you_ asked the Shageluks, they'd say forty. "

"You've been some time in this part of the world, I understand, " saidthe Colonel. 

"Twelve years. "

"Without going home?"

"Been home twice. Only stayed a month. Couldn't stand it. "

"I'll give you twenty-two dollars for that coat, " said Mac. 

"I've only got that one, and as I think I said--"

"I'll give you twenty-four. "

"It's an order, you see. Rainey--"

"I'll give you twenty-six. "

Benham shook his head. 

"Sorry. Yes, it's queer about the hold this country gets on you. Thefirst year is hell, the second is purgatory, with glimpses ... Ofsomething else. The third--well, more and more, forever after, yourealise the North's taken away any taste you ever had for civilisation. That's when you've got the hang of things up here, when you've learnednot to stay in your cabin all the time, and how to take care ofyourself on the trail. But as for going back to the boredom ofcities--no, thank you. "

Mac couldn't keep his eyes off the little coat. Finally, to enable himto forget it, as it seemed, he got up and opened Father Wills' letter, devoured its contents in silence, and flung it down on the table. TheColonel took it up, and read aloud the Father's thanks for all thewhite camp's kindness to Kaviak, and now that the sickness was aboutgone from Holy Cross, how the Fathers felt that they must relieve theirneighbours of further trouble with the little native. 

"I've said I'd take him back with me when I come up river aboutChristmas. "

"We'd be kind o' lost, now, without the little beggar, " said the Boy, glancing sideways at Mac. 

"There's nothin' to be got by luggin' him off to Holy Cross, " answeredthat gentleman severely. 

"Unless it's clo'es, " said Potts. 

"He's all right in the clo'es he's got, " said Mac, with the air of onewho closes an argument. He stood up, worn and tired, and looked at hiswatch. 

"You ain't goin' to bed this early?" said Potts, quite lively andrecovered from his cold bath. That was the worst of sleeping in theLittle Cabin. Bedtime broke the circle; you left interesting visitorsbehind, and sometimes the talk was better as the night wore on. 

"Well, someone ought to wood up down yonder. O'Flynn, will you go?"

O'Flynn was in the act of declining the honour. But Benham, who hadbeen saying, "It takes a year in the Yukon for a man to get on tohimself, " interrupted his favourite theme to ask: "Your other cabinlike this?"

Whereon, O'Flynn, shameless of the contrast in cabins, jumped up, andsaid: "Come and see, while I wood up. "

"You're very well fixed here, " said Benham, rising and looking roundwith condescension; "but men like you oughtn't to try to live withoutreal bread. No one can live and work on baking-powder. "

There was a general movement to the door, of which Benham was thecentre. 

"I tell you a lump of sour dough, kept over to raise the next batch, isworth more in this country than a pocket full of gold. "

"I'll give you twenty-eight for that musk-rat coat, " said Mac. 

Benham turned, stared back at him a moment, and then laughed. 

"Oh, well, I suppose I can get another made for Rainey before the firstboat goes down. "

"Then is it on account o' the bread, " the Colonel was saying, "that theold-timer calls himself a Sour-dough?"

"All on account o' the bread. "

They crowded out after Benham. 

"Coming?" The Boy, who was last, held the door open. Mac shook hishead. 

It wasn't one of the bitter nights; they'd get down yonder, and talk bythe fire, till he went in and disturbed them. That was all he hadwanted. For Mac was the only one who had noticed that Kaviak had wakedup. He was lying as still as a mouse. 

Alone with him at last, Mac kept his eyes religiously turned away, satdown by the fire, and watched the sparks. By-and-by a head was put upover the board of the lower bunk. Mac saw it, but sat quite still. 

"Farva. "

He meant to answer the appeal, half cleared his throat, but his voicefelt rusty; it wouldn't turn out a word. 

Kaviak climbed timidly, shakily out, and stood in the middle of thefloor in his bare feet. 

"Farva!"

He came a little nearer till the small feet sank into the rough browncurls of the buffalo. The child stooped to pick up his wooden cricket, wavered, and was about to fall. Mac shot out a hand, steadied him aninstant without looking, and then set the cricket in front of the fire. He thereupon averted his face, and sat as before with folded arms. Hehadn't deliberately meant to make Kaviak be the first to "show hishand" after all that had happened, but something had taken hold of himand made him behave as he hadn't dreamed of behaving. It was, perhaps, a fear of playing the fool as much as a determination to see how muchground he'd lost with the youngster. 

The child was observing him with an almost feverish intensity. Witheyes fixed upon the wooden face to find out how far he might venture, shakily he dragged the cricket from where Mac placed it, closer, closer, and as no terrible change in the unmoved face warned him todesist, he pulled it into its usual evening position between Mac'sright foot and the fireplace. He sank down with a sigh of relief, asone who finishes a journey long and perilous. The fire crackled and thesparks flew gaily. Kaviak sat there in the red glow, dressed only in ashirt, staring with incredulous, mournful eyes at the Farva who had--

Then, as Mac made no sign, he sighed again, and held out two littleshaky hands to the blaze. 

Mac gave out a sound between a cough and a snort, and wiped his eyes onthe back of his hand. 

Kaviak had started nervously. 

"You cold?" asked Mac. 

Kaviak nodded. 

"Hungry?"

He nodded again, and fell to coughing. 

Mac got up and brought the newly purchased coat to the fire. 

"It's for you, " he said, as the child's big eyes grew bigger withadmiration. 

"Me? Me own coat?" He stood up, and his bare feet fluttered up and downfeebly, but with huge delight. 

As the parki was held ready the child tumbled dizzily into it, and Macheld him fast an instant. 

In less than five minutes Kaviak was once more seated on the cricket, but very magnificent now in his musk-rat coat, so close up to Mac thathe could lean against his arm, and eating out of a plenty-bowl on hisknees a discreet spoonful of mush drowned in golden syrup--a supper fora Sultan if only there had been more!

When he had finished, he set the bowl down, and, as a puppy might, hepushed at Mac's arm till he found a way in, laid his head down on"Farva's" knee with a contented sigh, and closed his heavy eyes. 

Mac put his hand on the cropped head and began:

"About that empty syrup-can--"

Kaviak started up, shaking from head to foot. Was the obscure nightmarecoming down to crush him again?

Mac tried to soothe him. But Kaviak, casting about for charms to disarmthe awful fury of the white man--able to endure with dignity anyreverse save that of having his syrup spilt--cried out:

"I solly--solly. Our Farva--"

"I'm sorry, too, Kaviak, " Mac interrupted, gathering the child up tohim; "and we won't either of us do it any more. "

CHAPTER VIII

CHRISTMAS

 "Himlen morkner, mens Jordens Trakt Straaler lys som i Stjernedragt. Himlen er bleven Jordens Gjaest Snart er det Julens sode Fest. "

It had been moved, seconded, and carried by acclamation that theyshould celebrate Christmas, not so much by a feast of reason as by aflow of soul and a bang-up dinner, to be followed by speeches and somesort of cheerful entertainment. 

"We're goin' to lay ourselves out on this entertainment, " said the Boy, with painful misgivings as to the "bang-up dinner. "

Every time the banquet was mentioned somebody was sure to say, "Well, anyhow, there's Potts's cake, " and that reflection never failed toraise the tone of expectation, for Potts's cake was a beauty, evidentlyvery rich and fruity, and fitted by Nature to play the noble part ofplum-pudding. But, in making out the bill of fare, facts had to befaced. "We've got our everyday little rations of beans and bacon, andwe've got Potts's cake, and we've got one skinny ptarmigan to make abanquet for six hungry people!"

"But we'll have a high old time, and if the bill o' fare is a little... Restricted, there's nothin' to prevent our programme of toasts, songs, and miscellaneous contributions from bein' rich and varied. "

"And one thing we can get, even up here"--the Colonel was looking atKaviak--"and that's a little Christmas-tree. "

"Y-yes, " said Potts, "you can get a little tree, but you can't get thesmallest kind of a little thing to hang on it. "

"Sh!" said the Boy, "it must be a surprise. "

And he took steps that it should be, for he began stealing awayKaviak's few cherished possessions--his amulet, his top from under thebunk, his boats from out the water-bucket, wherewith to mitigate thebarrenness of the Yukon tree, and to provide a pleasant surprise forthe Esquimer who mourned his playthings as gone for ever. Of an eveningnow, after sleep had settled on Kaviak's watchful eyes, the Boy workedat a pair of little snow-shoes, helped out by a ball of sinew he hadgot from Nicholas. Mac bethought him of the valuable combination ofzoological and biblical instruction that might be conveyed by means ofa Noah's Ark. He sat up late the last nights before the 25th, whittling, chipping, pegging in legs, sharpening beaks, and inkingeyes, that the more important animals might be ready for the Deluge byChristmas. 

The Colonel made the ark, and O'Flynn took up a collection to defraythe expense of the little new mucklucks he had ordered from Nicholas. They were to come "_sure_ by Christmas Eve, " and O'Flynn was in what hecalled "a froightful fanteeg" as the short day of the 24th wore towardsnight, and never a sign of the one-eyed Pymeut. Half a dozen timesO'Flynn had gone beyond the stockade to find out if he wasn't in sight, and finally came back looking intensely disgusted, bringing a couple ofwhite travellers who had arrived from the opposite direction; verycold, one of them deaf, and with frost-bitten feet, and both so tiredthey could hardly speak. Of course, they were made as comfortable aswas possible, the frozen one rubbed with snow and bandaged, and bothgiven bacon and corn-bread and hot tea. 

"You oughtn't to let yourself get into a state like this, " said Mac, thinking ruefully of these strangers' obvious inability to travel for aday or two, and of the Christmas dinner, to which Benham alone had beenbidden, by a great stretch of hospitality. 

"That's all very well, " said the stranger, who shouted when he talkedat all, "but how's a man to know his feet are going to freeze?"

"Ye see, sorr, " O'Flynn explained absent-mindedly, "Misther MacCanndidn't know yer pardner was deaf. "

This point of view seemed to thaw some of the frost out of the twowayfarers. They confided that they were Salmon P. Hardy and BillSchiff, fellow-passengers in the _Merwin_, "locked in the ice downbelow, " and they'd mined side by side back in the States at CrippleCreek. "Yes, sir, and sailed for the Klondyke from Seattle last July. "And now at Christmas they were hoping that, with luck, they might reachthe new Minóok Diggings, seven hundred miles this side of the Klondyke, before the spring rush. During this recital O'Flynn kept rolling hiseyes absently. 

"Theyse a quare noise without. "

"It's the wind knockin' down yer chimbly, " says Mr. Hardyencouragingly. 

"It don't sound like Nich'las, annyhow. May the divil burrn him intarment and ile fur disappoyntin' th' kid. "

A rattle at the latch, and the Pymeut opened the door. 

"Lorrd love ye! ye're a jool, Nich'las!" screamed O'Flynn; and themucklucks passed from one to the other so surreptitiously that for allKaviak's wide-eyed watchfulness he detected nothing. 

Nicholas supped with his white friends, and seemed bent on passing thenight with them. He had to be bribed with tobacco and a new half-dollarto go home and keep Christmas in the bosom of his family. And still, atthe door, he hesitated, drew back, and laid the silver coin on thetable. 

"No. It nights. "

"But it isn't really dark. "

"Pretty soon heap dark. "

"Why, I thought you natives could find your way day or night?"

"Yes. Find way. "

"Then what's the matter?"

"Pymeut no like dark;" and it was not until Mac put on his ownsnow-shoes and offered to go part of the way with him that Nicholas wasat last induced to return home. 

The moment Kaviak was ascertained to be asleep, O'Flynn displayed themucklucks. No mistake, they were dandies! The Boy hung one of them up, by its long leg, near the child's head at the side of the bunk, andthen conferred with O'Flynn. 

"The Colonel's made some little kind o' sweet-cake things for the tree. I could spare you one or two. "

"Divil a doubt Kaviak'll take it kindly, but furr mesilf I'm thinkin' apitaty's a dale tastier. "

There was just one left in camp. It had rolled behind the flour-sack, and O'Flynn had seized on it with rapture. Where everybody was in suchneed of vegetable food, nobody under-estimated the magnificence ofO'Flynn's offering, as he pushed the pitaty down into the toe of themuckluck. 

"Sure, the little haythen'll have a foine Christian Christmas wid thatsame to roast in the coals, begorra!" and they all went to bed saveMac, who had not returned, and the Boy, who put on his furs, and wentup the hill to the place where he kept the Christmas-tree lodged in acotton-wood. 

He shook the snow off its branches, brought it down to the cabin, decorated it, and carried it back. 

 * * * * *

Mac, Salmon P. Hardy, and the frost-bitten Schiff were waked, brightand early Christmas morning, by the Boy's screaming with laughter. 

The Colonel looked down over the bunk's side, and the men on thebuffalo-skin looked up, and they all saw Kaviak sitting in bed, holdingin one hand an empty muckluck by the toe, and in the other a half-eatenraw potato. 

"Keep the rest of it to roast, anyhow, or O'Flynn's heart will bebroken. "

So they deprived Kaviak of the gnawed fragment, and consoled him byhelping him to put on his new boots. 

When the Little Cabin contingent came in to breakfast, "Hello! what yougot up on the roof?" says Potts. 

"Foot of earth and three feet o' snow!"

"But what's in the bundle!"

"Bundle?" echoes the Boy. 

"If you put a bundle on the roof, I s'pose you know what's in it, " saysthe Colonel severely. 

The occupants of the two cabins eyed each other with good-humouredsuspicion. 

"Thank you, " says the Boy, "but we're not takin' any bundles to-day. "

"Call next door, " advised the Colonel. 

"You think we're tryin' to jolly you, but just go out and see foryourself--"

"No, sir, you've waked the wrong passenger!"

"They're tryin' it on _us_, " said Potts, and subsided into his place atthe breakfast-table. 

During the later morning, while the Colonel wrestled with the dinnerproblem, the Boy went through the thick-falling snow to see if the treewas all right, and the dogs had not appropriated the presents. Half-wayup to the cotton-wood, he glanced back to make sure Kaviak wasn'tfollowing, and there, sure enough, just as the Little Cabin men hadsaid--there below him on the broad-eaved roof was a bundle packed roundand nearly covered over with snow. He went back eyeing it suspiciously. 

Whatever it was, it seemed to be done up in sacking, for a bit stuckout at the corner where the wind struck keen. The Boy walked round thecabin looking, listening. Nobody had followed him, or nothing wouldhave induced him to risk the derision of the camp. As it was, he wouldclimb up very softly and lightly, and nobody but himself would be thewiser even if it was a josh. He brushed away the snow, touching thething with a mittened hand and a creepy feeling at his spine. It wasprecious heavy, and hard as iron. He tugged at the sacking. "Jee! if Idon't b'lieve it's meat. " The lid of an old cardboard box was boundround the frozen mass with a string, and on the cardboard was written:"Moose and Christmas Greeting from Kaviak's friends at Holy Cross toKaviak's friends by the Big Chimney. "

"H'ray! h'ray! Come out, you fellas! Hip! hip! hurrah!" and the Boydanced a breakdown on the roof till the others had come out, and thenhe hurled the moose-meat down over the stockade, and sent the placardflying after. They all gathered round Mac and read it. 

"Be the Siven!"

"Well, I swan!"

"Don't forget, Boy, you're not takin' any. "

"Just remember, if it hadn't been for me it might have stayed up theretill spring. "

"You run in, Kaviak, or you'll have no ears. "

But that gentleman pulled up his hood and stood his ground. 

"How did it get on the roof, in the name o' the nation?" asked theColonel, stamping his feet. 

"Never hear of Santa Claus? Didn't I tell you, Kaviak, he drove hisreindeer team over the roofs?"

"Did you hear any dogs go by in the night?"

"I didn't; Nicholas brought it, I s'pose, and was told to cache it upthere. Maybe that's why he came late to give us a surprise. "

"Don't believe it; we'd have heard him. Somebody from the mission cameby in the night and didn't want to wake us, and saw there were dogs--"

"It's froze too hard to cut, " interrupted Salmon P. Hardy, who had beentrying his jack-knife on one end; "it's too big to go in any mortalpot. "

"And it'll take a month to thaw!"

They tried chopping it, but you could more easily chop a bolt of linensheeting. The axe laboriously chewed out little bits and scatteredshreds. 

"Stop! We'll lose a lot that way. "

While they were lamenting this fact, and wondering what to do, the dogsset up a racket, and were answered by some others. Benham was comingalong at a rattling pace, his dogs very angry to find other dogs there, putting on airs of possession. 

"We got all this moose-meat, " says Potts, when Benham arrived on thescene, "but we can't cut it. "

"Of course not. Where's your hand-saw?"

The Boy brought it, and Mr. Benham triumphantly sawed off two finelarge steaks. Kaviak scraped up the meat saw-dust and ate it with gravesatisfaction. With a huge steak in each hand, the Colonel, beaming, ledthe procession back to the cabin. The Boy and Mac cached the rest ofthe moose on the roof and followed. 

"Fine team, that one o' yours, " said Salmon P. Hardy to the trader. "_You'll_ get to Minóok, anyhow. "

"Not me. "

"Hey?"

"I'm not going that way. "

"Mean to skip the country? Got cold feet?"

"No. I'm satisfied enough with the country, " said the trader quietly, and acknowledged the introduction to Mr. Schiff, sitting in bandages bythe fire. 

Benham turned back and called out something to his guide. 

"I thought maybe you'd like some oysters for your Christmas dinner, " hesaid to the Colonel when he came in again, "so I got a couple o' cansfrom the A. C. Man down below;" and a mighty whoop went up. 

The great rapture of that moment did not, however, prevent O'Flynn'ssaying under his breath:

"Did ye be chanct, now, think of bringin' a dtrop o'--hey?"

"No, " says Benham a little shortly. 

"Huh! Ye say that like's if ye wuz a taytotlerr?"

"Not me. But I find it no good to drink whiskey on the trail. "

"Ah!" says Salmon P. With interest, "you prefer brandy?"

"No, " says Benham, "I prefer tea. "

"Lorrd, now! look at that!"

"Drink spirit, and it's all very fine and reviving for a few minutes;but a man can't work on it. "

"It's the wan thing, sorr, " says O'Flynn with solemnity--"it's the wanthing on the top o' God's futstool that makes me feel I cud wurruk. "

"Not in this climate; and you're safe to take cold in the reaction. "

"Cowld is ut? Faith, ye'll be tellin' us Mr. Schiff got his toes frozewid settin' too clost be the foire. "

"You don't seriously mean you go on the trail without any alcohol?"asks the Colonel. 

"No, I don't go without, but I keep it on the outside of me, unless Ihave an accident. "

Salmon P. Studied the trader with curiosity. A man with sevenmagnificent dogs and a native servant, and the finest furs he'd everseen--here was either a capitalist from the outside or a man who hadstruck it rich "on the inside. "

"Been in long?"

"Crossed the Chilcoot in June, '85. "

"What! twelve year ago?"

Benham nodded. 

"Gosh! then you've been in the Klondyke?"

"Not since the gold was found. "

"And got a team like that 'n outside, and not even goin' to Minóok?"

"Guess not!"

What made the feller so damn satisfied? Only one explanation waspossible: he'd found a mine without going even as far as Minóok. He wasa man to keep your eye on. 

A goodly aroma of steaming oysters and of grilling moose arose in theair. The Boy set up the amended bill of fare, lit the Christmascandles--one at the top, one at the bottom of the board--and theColonel announced the first course, though it wasn't one o'clock, andthey usually dined at four. 

The soup was too absorbingly delicious to admit of conversation. Themoose-steaks had vanished like the "snaw-wreath in the thaw" beforeanything much was said, save:

"Nothin' th' matter with moose, hey?"

"Nop! Bet your life. "

The "Salmi of ptarmigan" appeared as a great wash of gravy in whichportions of the much cut-up bird swam in vain for their lives. But thehigh flat rim of the dish was plentifully garnished by fingers ofcorn-bread, and the gravy was "galoppshus, " so Potts said. 

Salmon P. , having appeased the pangs of hunger, returned to hisperplexed study of Benham. 

"Did I understand you to say you came into this country to _prospect_?"

"Came down the Never-Know-What and prospected a whole summer at FortyMile. "

"What river did you come by?"

"Same as you go by--the Yukon. Indians up yonder call it theNever-Know-What, and the more you find out about it, the better youthink the name. "

"Did you do any good at Forty Mile?"

"Not enough to turn my head, so I tried the Koyukuk--and other digginstoo. "

"Hear that, Schiff?" he roared at his bandaged friend. "Never say die!This gen'l'man's been at it twelve years--tried more 'n one camp, butnow--well, he's so well fixed he don't care a cuss about the Klondyke. "

Schiff lit up and pulled hard at the cutty. 

O'Flynn had taken Kaviak to the fire, and was showing him how to roasthalf a petaty in wood ashes; but he was listening to the story andputting in "Be the Siven!" at appropriate moments. 

Schiff poured out a cloud of rank smoke. 

"Gen'lemen, " he said, "the best Klondyke claims'll be potted. Minóok'sthe camp o' the future. You'd better come along with us. "

"Got no dogs, " sighed the Boy; but the two strangers looked hard at theman who hadn't that excuse. 

Benham sat and idly watched preparations for the next course. 

"Say, a nabob like you might give us a tip. How did you do the trick?"

"Well, I'd been playing your game for three years, and no galley slaveever worked half as hard--"

"That's it! work like the devil for a couple o' years and then livelike a lord for ever after. "

"Yes; well, when the time came for me to go into the Lord business Ihad just forty-two dollars and sixty cents to set up on. "

"What had you done with the rest?"

"I'd spent the five thousand dollars my father left me, and I'd cleanedup just forty-two dollars sixty cents in my three years' mining. "

The announcement fell chill on the company. 

"I was dead broke and I had no credit. I went home. "

"But"--Mac roused himself--"you didn't stay--"

"No, you don't stay--as a rule;"--Mac remembered Caribou--"get used tothis kind o' thing, and miss it. Miss it so you--"

"You came back, " says Salmon P. , impatient of generalities. 

"And won this time, " whispered Schiff. 

For that is how every story must end. The popular taste in fiction isuniversal. 

"A friend at home grub-staked me, and I came in again--came down on thehigh water in June. Prospected as long as my stuff lasted, andthen--well, I didn't care about starving, I became an A. C. Trader. "

A long pause. This was no climax; everybody waited. 

"And now I'm on my own. I often make more money in a day trading withthe Indians in furs, fish, and cord-wood, than I made in my wholeexperience as a prospector and miner. "

A frost had fallen on the genial company. 

"But even if _you_ hadn't any luck, " the Boy suggested, "you must haveseen others--"

"Oh, I saw some washing gravel that kept body and soul together, and Isaw some ... That didn't. "

In the pause he added, remorseless:

"I helped to bury some of them. "

"Your experience was unusual, or why do men come back year after year?"

"Did you ever hear of a thing called Hope?"

They moved uneasily on their stools, and some rubbed stubbly chins withperplexed, uncertain fingers, and they all glowered at the speaker. Hewas uncomfortable, this fellow. 

"Well, there mayn't be as much gold up here as men think, but there'smore hope than anywhere on earth. "

"To hell with hope; give me certainty, " says Salmon P. 

"Exactly. So you shuffle the cards, and laugh down the five-cent limit. You'll play one last big game, and it'll be for life this time as wellas fortune. "

"Cheerful cuss, ain't he?" whispered Schiff. 

"They say we're a nation of gamblers. Well, sir, the biggest game weplay is the game that goes on near the Arctic Circle. "

"What's the matter with Wall Street?"

"'Tisn't such a pretty game, and they don't play for their lives. Itell you it's love of gambling brings men here, and it's the splendidstiff game they find going on that keeps them. There's nothing like iton earth. "

His belated enthusiasm deceived nobody. 

"It don't seem to have excited you much, " said Mac. 

"Oh, I've had my turn at it. And just by luck I found I could playanother--a safer game, and not bad fun either. " He sat up straight andshot his hands down deep in the pockets of his mackinaws. "I've got agood thing, and I'm willing to stay with it. "

The company looked at him coldly. 

"Well, " drawled Potts, "you can look after the fur trade; give me amodest little claim in the Klondyke. "

"Oh, Klondyke! Klondyke!" Benham got up and stepped over Kaviak on hisway to the fire. He lit a short briarwood with a flaming stick andturned about. "Shall I tell you fellows a little secret about theKlondyke?" He held up the burning brand in the dim room with tellingemphasis. The smoke and flame blew black and orange across his face ashe said:

"_Every dollar that's taken out of the Klondyke in gold-dust will costthree dollars in coin_. "

A sense of distinct dislike to Benham had spread through the company--afellow who called American enterprise love of gambling, for whomheroism was foolhardy, and hope insane. Where was a pioneer so bold hecould get up now and toast the Klondyke? Who, now, without grimmisgiving, could forecast a rosy future for each man at the board? Andthat, in brief, had been the programme. 

"Oh, help the puddin', Colonel, " said the Boy like one who starts upfrom an evil dream. 

But they sat chilled and moody, eating plum-pudding as if it had beenso much beans and bacon. Mac felt Robert Bruce's expensive educationslipping out of reach. Potts saw his girl, tired of waiting, taking upwith another fellow. The Boy's Orange Grove was farther off thanFlorida. Schiff and Hardy wondered, for a moment, who was the gainerfor all their killing hardship? Not they, at present, although therewas the prospect--the hope--oh, damn the Trader!

The Colonel made the punch. O'Flynn drained his cup without waiting forthe mockery of that first toast--_To our Enterprise_--although no onehad taken more interest in the programme than O'Flynn. Benham talkedabout the Anvik saw-mill, and the money made in wood camps along theriver. Nobody listened, though everyone else sat silent, smoking andsulkily drinking his punch. 

Kaviak's demand for some of the beverage reminded the Boy of theChristmas-tree. It had been intended as a climax to wind up theentertainment, but to produce it now might save the situation. He gotup and pulled on his parki. 

"Back 'n a minute. " But he was gone a long time. 

Benham looked down the toast-list and smiled inwardly, for it wasKlondyked from top to bottom. The others, too, stole uneasy glances atthat programme, staring them in the face, unabashed, covertlyironic--nay, openly jeering. They actually hadn't noticed the factbefore, but every blessed speech was aimed straight at the wonderfulgold camp across the line--not the Klondyke of Benham's croaking, butthe Klondyke of their dreams. 

Even the death's head at the feast regretted the long postponement ofso spirited a programme, interspersed, as it promised to be, withsongs, dances, and "tricks, " and winding up with an original poem, "Hewon't be happy till he gets it. "

Benham's Indian had got up and gone out. Kaviak had tried to go too, but the door was slammed in his face. He stood there with his nose tothe crack exactly as a dog does. Suddenly he ran back to Mac and tuggedat his arm. Even the dull white men could hear an ominous snarlingamong the Mahlemeuts. 

Out of the distance a faint answering howl of derision from some enemy, advancing or at bay. It was often like this when two teams put up atthe Big Chimney Camp. 

"Reckon our dogs are gettin' into trouble, " said Salmon P. Anxiously tohis deaf and crippled partner. 

"It's nothing, " says the Trader. "A Siwash dog of any spirit is alwaystrailing his coat"; and Salmon P. Subsided. 

Not so Kaviak. Back to the door, head up, he listened. They hadobserved the oddity before. The melancholy note of the Mahlemeut neveryet had failed to stir his sombre little soul. He was standing nowlooking up at the latch, high, and made for white men, eager, breathingfast, listening to that dismal sound that is like nothing else innature--listening as might an exiled Scot to the skirl of bagpipes;listening as a Tyrolese who hears yodelling on foreign hills, or as thedweller in a distant land to the sound of the dear home speech. 

The noise outside grew louder, the air was rent with howls of rage anddefiance. 

"Sounds as if there's 'bout a million mad dogs on your front stoop, "says Schiff, knowing there must be a great deal going on if any of itreached his ears. 

"You set still. " His pardner pushed him down on his stool. "Mr. Benhamand I'll see what's up. "

The Trader leisurely opened the door, Salmon P. Keeping modestlybehind, while Kaviak darted forward only to be caught back by Mac. Anavalanche of sound swept in--a mighty howling and snarling and crackingof whips, and underneath the higher clamour, human voices--and indashes the Boy, powdered with snow, laughing and balancing carefully inhis mittened hands a little Yukon spruce, every needle diamond-pointed, every sturdy branch white with frost crystals and soft woolly snow, andbearing its little harvest of curious fruit--sweet-cake rings and starsand two gingerbread men hanging by pack-thread from the white and greenbranches, the Noah's Ark lodged in one crotch, the very amateursnow-shoes in another, and the lost toys wrapped up, transfigured intobacco-foil, dangling merrily before Kaviak's incredulous eyes. 

"There's your Christmas-tree!" and the bringer, who had carried thetree so that no little puff of snow or delicate crystal should falloff, having made a successful entrance and dazzled the child, gave wayto the strong excitement that shot light out of his eyes and broughtscarlet into his cheeks. "Here, take it!" He dashed the tree down infront of Kaviak, and a sudden storm agitated its sturdy branches; itsnowed about the floor, and the strange fruit whirled and spun in theblast. Kaviak clutched it, far too dazed to do more than stare. The Boystamped the snow off his mucklucks on the threshold, and dashed his capagainst the lintel, calling out:

"Come in! come in! let the dogs fight it out. " Behind him, between thesnow-walls at the entrance, had appeared two faces--weather-beaten men, crowding in the narrow space, craning to see the reception of theChristmas-tree and the inside of the famous Big Chimney Cabin. 

"These gentlemen, " says the Boy, shaking with excitement as he usheredthem in, "are Mr. John Dillon and General Lighter. They've just donethe six hundred and twenty-five miles from Minóok with dogs over theice! They've been forty days on the trail, and they're as fit asfiddles. An' no yonder, for Little Minóok has made big millionaires o'both o' them!"

Millionaires or not, they'll never, either of them, create a greatersensation than they did that Christmas Day, in the Big Chimney Cabin, on the bleak hillside, up above the Never-Know-What. Here was Certaintyat last! Here was Justification!

Precious symbols of success, they were taken by both hands, they wereshaken and wildly welcomed, "peeled, " set down by the fire, givenpunch, asked ten thousand questions all in a breath, rejoiced over, andlooked up to as glorious dispellers of doubt, blessed saviours fromdespair. 

Schiff had tottered forward on bandaged feet, hand round ear, mouthopen, as if to swallow whole whatever he couldn't hear. The Colonelkept on bowing magnificently at intervals and pressing refreshment, O'Flynn slapping his thigh and reiterating, "Be the Siven!" Potts notonly widened his mouth from ear to ear, but, as O'Flynn said after, "stretched it clane round his head and tyed it up furr jy in a nateknot behind. " Benham took a back seat, and when anybody remembered himfor the next hour it was openly to gloat over his discomfiture. 

John Dillon was one of those frontiersmen rightly called typicallyAmerican. You see him again and again--as a cowboy in Texas, as a mineror herdsman all through the Far West; you see him cutting lumber alongthe Columbia, or throwing the diamond hitch as he goes from camp tocamp for gold and freedom. He takes risks cheerfully, and he neverworks for wages when he can go "on his own. "

John Dillon was like the majority, tall, lean, muscular, not an ounceof superfluous flesh on his bones, a face almost gaunt in its clearnessof cut, a thin straight nose, chin not heavy but well curved out, theeye orbit arched and deep, a frown fixed between thick eyebrows, andfew words in his firm, rather grim-looking mouth. He was perhapsthirty-six, had been "in" ten years, and had mined before that inIdaho. Under his striped parki he was dressed in spotted deer-skin, wore white deer-skin mucklucks, Arctic cap, and moose mittens. Pinnedon his inner shirt was the badge of the Yukon Order of Pioneers--afootrule bent like the letter A above a scroll of leaves, and in theangle two linked O's over Y. P. 

It was the other man--the western towns are full of GeneralLighters--who did the talking. An attorney from Seattle, he had come upin the July rush with very little but boundless assurance, fell in withan old miner who had been grubstaked by Captain Rainey out of the_Oklahoma's_ supplies, and got to Minóok before the river went tosleep. 

"No, we're not pardners exactly, " he said, glancing good-humouredly atDillon; "we've worked separate, but we're going home two by two likeanimals into the Ark. We've got this in common. We've both 'struckile'--haven't we, Dillon?"

Dillon nodded. 

"Little Minóok's as rich a camp as Dawson, and the gold's of highergrade--isn't it, Dillon?"

"That's right. "

"One of the many great advantages of Minóok is that it's the _nearest_place on the river where they've struck pay dirt. " says the General. "And another great advantage is that it's on the American side of theline. "

"What advantage is that?" Mac grated out. 

"Just the advantage of not having all your hard earnings taken away byan iniquitous tax. "

"Look out! this fella's a Britisher--"

"Don't care if he is, and no disrespect to you, sir. The Canadians inthe Klondyke are the first to say the tax is nothing short of highwayrobbery. You'll see! The minute they hear of gold across the linethere'll be a stampede out of Dawson. I can put you in the way ofgetting a claim for eight thousand dollars that you can take eightythousand out of next August, with no inspector coming round to checkyour clean-up, and no Government grabbing at your royalties. "

"Why aren't you taking out that eighty thousand yourself?" asked Macbluntly. 

"Got more 'n one man can handle, " answered the General. "Reckon we'veearned a holiday. "

Dillon backed him up. 

"Then it isn't shortage in provisions that takes you outside, " said theBoy. 

"Not much. "

"Plenty of food at Rampart City; that's the name o' the town where theLittle Minóok meets the Yukon. "

"Food at gold-craze prices, I suppose. "

"No. Just about the same they quote you in Seattle. "

"How is that possible when it's been carried four thousand miles?"

"Because the A. C. And N. A. T. And T. Boats got frozen in this side ofDawson. They know by the time they get there in June a lot of stuffwill have come in by the short route through the lakes, and the townwill be overstocked. So there's flour and bacon to burn when you get upas far as Minóok. It's only along the Lower River there's any realscarcity. "

The Big Chimney men exchanged significant looks. 

"And there are more supply-boats wintering up at Fort Yukon and atCircle City, " the General went on. "I tell you on the Upper Riverthere's food to burn. "

Again the Big Chimney men looked at one another. The General kepthelping himself to punch, and as he tossed it off he would say, "Minóok's the camp for me!" When he had given vent to this convictionthree times, Benham, who hadn't spoken since their entrance, saidquietly:

"And you're going away from it as hard as you can pelt. "

The General turned moist eyes upon him. 

"Are you a man of family, sir?"

"No. "

"Then I cannot expect you to understand. " His eyes brimmed at somethought too fine and moving for public utterance. 

Each member of the camp sat deeply cogitating. Not only gold at Minóok, but food! In the inner vision of every eye was a ship-load ofprovisions "frozen in" hard by a placer claim; in every heart a fervidprayer for a dog-team. 

The Boy jumped up, and ran his fingers through his long wild hair. Hepanted softly like a hound straining at a leash. Then, with an obviouseffort to throw off the magic of Minóok, he turned suddenly about, and"Poor old Kaviak!" says he, looking round and speaking in quite aneveryday sort of voice. 

The child was leaning against the door clasping the forgottenChristmas-tree so tight against the musk-rat coat that the branches hidhis face. From time to time with reverent finger he touched silver boatand red-foil top, and watched, fascinated, how they swung. A whitechild in a tenth of the time would have eaten the cakes, torn off thetransfiguring tinfoil, tired of the tree, and forgotten it. The Boyfelt some compunction at the sight of Kaviak's steadfast fidelity. 

"Look here, we'll set the tree up where you can see it better. " He putan empty bucket on the table, and with Mac's help, wedged the spruce init firmly, between some blocks of wood and books of the law. 

The cabin was very crowded. Little Mr. Schiff was sitting on thecricket. Kaviak retired to his old seat on Elephas beyond the bunks, where he still had a good view of the wonderful tree, agreeably lit bywhat was left of the two candles. 

"Those things are good to eat, you know, " said the Colonel kindly. 

Mac cut down a gingerbread man and gave it into the tiny hands. 

"What wind blew that thing into your cabin?" asked the General, squinting up his snow-blinded eyes at the dim corner where Kaviak sat. 

There wasn't a man in the camp who didn't resent the millionaire'stone. 

"This is a great friend of ours--ain't you, Kaviak?" said the Boy. "He's got a soul above gold-mines, haven't you? He sees other fellashelping themselves to his cricket and his high chair--too polite toobject--just goes and sits like a philosopher on the bones of deaddevils and looks on. Other fellas sittin' in his place talkin' aboutgold and drinkin' punch--never offerin' him a drop--"

Several cups were held out, but Mac motioned them back. 

"I don't think, " says John Dillon slyly--"don't think _this_ punch willhurt the gentleman. "

And a roar went up at the Colonel's expense. General Lighter pulledhimself to his feet, saying there was a little good Old Rye leftoutside, and he could stock up again when he got to the _Oklahoma_. 

"Oh, and it's yersilf that don't shoy off from a dthrop o' the craythurwhin yer thravellin' the thrail. "

Everybody looked at Benham. He got up and began to put on his furs; hisdog-driver, squatting by the door, took the hint, and went out to seeafter the team. 

"Oh, well, " said the General to O'Flynn, "it's Christmas, you know";and he picked his way among the closely-packed company to the door. 

"We ought to be movin', too, " said Dillon, straightening up. TheGeneral halted, depressed at the reminder. "You know we swore wewouldn't stop again unless--"

"Look here, didn't you hear me saying it was Christmas?"

"You been sayin' that for twenty-four hours. Been keepin' Christmasright straight along since yesterday mornin. " But the General had goneout to unpack the whisky. "He knocked up the mission folks, bright andearly yesterday, to tell 'em about the Glad News Tiding's--Diggin's, Imean. "

"What did they say?"

"Weren't as good an audience as the General's used to; that's why wepushed on. We'd heard about your camp, and the General felt a call topreach the Gospel accordin' to Minóok down this way. "

"He don't seem to be standin' the racket as well as you, " said Schiff. 

"Well, sir, this is the first time I've found him wantin' to hang roundafter he's thoroughly rubbed in the news. "

Dillon moved away from the fire; the crowded cabin was getting hot. 

Nevertheless the Colonel put on more wood, explaining to Salmon P. Andthe others, who also moved back, that it was for illuminatingpurposes--those two candles burning down low, each between three nailsin a little slab of wood--those two had been kept for Christmas, andwere the last they had. 

In the general movement from the fire, Benham, putting on his cap andgloves, had got next to Dillon. 

"Look here, " said the Trader, under cover of the talk about candles, "what sort of a trip have you had?"

The Yukon pioneer looked at him a moment, and then took his pipe out ofhis mouth to say:

"Rank. "

"No fun, hey?"

"That's right. " He restored the pipe, and drew gently. 

"And yet to hear the General chirp--"

"He's got plenty o' grit, the General has. "

"Has he got gold?"

Dillon nodded. "Or will have. "

"Out of Minóok?"

"Out of Minóok. "

"In a sort of a kind of a way. I think I understand. " Benham wagged hishead. "He's talkin' for a market. "

Dillon smoked. 

"Goin' out to stir up a boom, and sell his claim to some sucker. "

The General reappeared with the whisky, stamping the snow off his feetbefore he joined the group at the table, where the Christmas-tree wasseasonably cheek by jowl with the punch-bowl between the low-burntcandles. Mixing the new brew did not interrupt the General's ecstaticreferences to Minóok. 

"Look here!" he shouted across to Mac, "I'll give you a lay on my bestclaim for two thousand down and a small royalty. "

Mac stuck out his jaw. 

"I'd like to take a look at the country before I deal. "

"Well, see here. When will you go?"

"We got no dogs. "

"_We_ have!" exclaimed Salmon P. And Scruff with one voice. 

"Well, I _can_ offer you fellows--"

"How many miles did you travel a day?"

"Sixty, " said the General promptly. 

"Oh Lord!" ejaculated Benham, and hurriedly he made his good-byes. 

"What's the matter with _you?_" demanded the General with dignity. 

"I'm only surprised to hear Minóok's twenty-four hundred miles away. "

"More like six hundred, " says the Colonel. 

"And you've been forty days coming, and you cover sixty miles aday--Good-bye, " he laughed, and was gone. 

"Well--a--" The General looked round. 

"Travelin' depends on the weather. " Dillon helped him out. 

"Exactly. Depends on the weather, " echoed the General. "You don't getan old Sour-dough like Dillon to travel at forty degrees. "

"How are you to know?" whispered Schiff. 

"Tie a little bottle o' quick to your sled, " answered Dillon. 

"Bottle o' what?" asked the Boy. 

"Quicksilver--mercury, " interpreted the General. 

"No dog-puncher who knows what he's about travels when his quick goesdead. "

"If the stuff's like lead in your bottle--" The General stopped tosample the new brew. In the pause, from the far side of the cabinDillon spat straight and clean into the heart of the coals. 

"Well, what do you do when the mercury freezes?" asked the Boy. 

"Camp, " said Dillon impassively, resuming his pipe. 

"I suppose, " the Boy went on wistfully--"I suppose you met men all theway making straight for Minóok?"

"Only on this last lap. "

"They don't get far, most of 'em. "

"But... But it's worth trying!" the Boy hurried to bridge the chasm. 

The General lifted his right arm in the attitude of the orator about tomake a telling hit, but he was hampered by having a mug at his lips. Inthe pause, as he stood commanding attention, at the same time that heswallowed half a pint of liquor, he gave Dillon time leisurely to getup, knock the ashes out of his pipe stick it in his belt, put a slowhand behind him towards his pistol pocket, and bring out his buckskingold sack. Now, only Mac of the other men had ever seen a miner's pursebefore, but every one of the four cheechalkos knew instinctively whatit was that Dillon held so carelessly. In that long, narrow bag, likethe leg of a child's stocking, was the stuff they had all come seeking. 

The General smacked his lips, and set down the granite cup. 

"_That's_ the argument, " he said. "Got a noospaper?"

The Colonel looked about in a flustered way for the tattered SanFrancisco _Examiner_; Potts and the Boy hustled the punch-bowl on tothe bucket board, recklessly spilling some of the precious contents. O'Flynn and Salmon P. Whisked the Christmas tree into the corner, andnot even the Boy remonstrated when a gingerbread man broke his neck, and was trampled under foot. 

"Quick! the candles are going out!" shouted the Boy, and in truth eachwick lay languishing in a little island of grease, now flaring bravely, now flickering to dusk. It took some time to find in the San Francisco_Examiner_ of August 7 a foot square space that was whole. But asquickly as possible the best bit was spread in the middle of the table. Dillon, in the breathless silence having slowly untied the thongs, heldhis sack aslant between the two lights, and poured out a stream-nuggetsand coarse bright gold. 

The crowd about the table drew audible breath. Nobody actually spoke atfirst, except O'Flynn, who said reverently: "Be--the Siven! HowlyPipers!--that danced at me--gran'-mother's weddin'--when thedivvle--called the chune!" Even the swimming wicks flared up, andseemed to reach out, each a hungry tongue of flame to touch and tastethe glittering heap, before they went into the dark. Low exclamations, hands thrust out to feel, and drawn back in a sort of superstitiousawe. 

Here it was, this wonderful stuff they'd come for! Each one knew by thewild excitement in his own breast, how in secret he had been brought todoubt its being here. But here it was lying in a heap on the Big Cabintable! and--now it was gone. 

The right candle had given out, and O'Flynn, blowing with impatiencelike a walrus, had simultaneously extinguished the other. 

For an instant a group of men with strained and dazzled eyes still bentabove the blackness on the boards. 

"Stir the fire, " called the Colonel, and flew to do it himself. 

"I'll light a piece of fat pine, " shouted the Boy, catching up a stick, and thrusting it into the coals. 

"Where's your bitch?" said Dillon calmly. 

"Bitch?"

"Haven't you got a condensed milk can with some bacon grease in it, anda rag wick? Makes a good enough light. "

But the fire had been poked up, and the cabin was full of dancinglights and shadows. Besides that, the Boy was holding a resinous stickalight over the table, and they all bent down as before. 

"It was passin' a bank in 'Frisco wid a windy full o' that stuff thatbrought me up here, " said O'Flynn. 

"It was hearin' about that winder brought _me_" added Potts. 

Everyone longed to touch and feel about in the glittering pile, but noone as yet had dared to lay a finger on the smallest grain in thehoard. An electrical shock flashed through the company when the Generalpicked up one of the biggest nuggets and threw it down with a rich, full-bodied thud. "That one is four ounces. "

He took up another. 

"This is worth about sixty dollars. "

"More like forty, " said Dillon. 

They were of every conceivable shape and shapelessness, most of themflattened; some of them, the greenhorn would swear, were fashioned byman into roughly embossed hearts, or shells, or polished discs likerude, defaced coins. One was a perfect staple, another the letter "L, "another like an axe-head, and one like a peasant's sabot. Some werealmost black with iron stains, and some were set with "jewels" ofquartz, but for the most part they were formless fragments of a richand brassy yellow. 

"Lots of the little fellas are like melon-seeds"; and the Boy pointed ashaking finger, longing and still not daring to touch the treasure. 

Each man had a dim feeling in the back of his head that, after all, thehillock of gold was an illusion, and his own hand upon the dazzlingpile would clutch the empty air. 

"Where's your dust?" asked the Boy. 

Dillon stared. 

"Why, here. "

"This is all nuggets and grains. "

"Well, what more do you want?"

"Oh, it'd do well enough for me, but it ain't dust. "

"It's what we call dust. "

"As coarse as this?"

The Sour-dough nodded, and Lighter laughed. 

"There's a fox's mask, " said the Colonel at the bottom of the table, pointing a triangular bit out. 

"Let me look at it a minute, " begged the Boy. 

"Hand it round, " whispered Schiff. 

It was real. It was gold. Their fingers tingled under the firstcontact. This was the beginning. 

The rude bit of metal bred a glorious confidence. Under the magic ofits touch Robert Bruce's expensive education became a simple certainty. In Potts's hand the nugget gave birth to a mighty progeny. He sawhimself pouring out sackfuls before his enraptured girl. 

The Boy lifted his flaring torch with a victorious sense of having justbought back the Orange Grove; and Salmon P. Passed the nugget to hispartner with a blissful sigh. 

"Well, I'm glad we didn't get cold feet, " says he. 

"Yes, " whispered Schiff; "it looks like we goin' to the right place. "

The sheen of the heap of yellow treasure was trying even to the nervesof the Colonel. 

"Put it away, " he said quite solemnly, laying the nugget on thepaper--"put it all away before the firelight dies down. "

Dillon leisurely gathered it up and dropped the nuggets, with anabsent-minded air, into the pouch which Lighter held. 

But the San Francisco _Examiner_ had been worn to the softness of anold rag and the thinness of tissue. Under Dillon's sinewy fingerspinching up the gold the paper gave way. 

"Oh!" exclaimed more than one voice, as at some grave mishap. 

Dillon improvised a scoop out of a dirty envelope. Nobody spoke andeverybody watched, and when, finally, with his hand, he brushed theremaining grains off the torn paper into the envelope, poured them intothe gaping sack-mouth, and lazily pulled at the buckskin draw-string, everybody sat wondering how much, if any, of the precious metal hadescaped through the tear, and how soon Dillon would come out of hisbrown study, remember, and recover the loss. But a spell seemed to havefallen on the company. No one spoke, till Dillon, with that lazymotion, hoisting one square shoulder and half turning his body round, was in the act of returning the sack to his hip-pocket. 

"Wait!" said Mac, with the explosiveness of a firearm, and O'Flynnjumped. 

"You ain't got it all, " whispered Schiff hurriedly. 

"Oh, I'm leavin' the fox-face for luck, " Dillon nodded at the Colonel. 

But Schiff pointed reverently at the tear in the paper, as Dillon onlywent on pushing his sack deep down in his pocket, while Mac lifted the_Examiner_. All but the two millionaires bent forward and scrutinisedthe table. O'Flynn impulsively ran one lone hand over the place wherethe gold-heap had lain, his other hand held ready at the table's edgeto catch any sweepings. None! But the result of O'Flynn's action wasthat those particles of gold that that fallen through the paper weredriven into the cracks and inequalities of the board. 

"There! See?"

"Now look what you've done!"

Mac pointed out a rough knot-hole, too, that slyly held back a pinch ofgold. 

"Oh, that!"

Dillon slapped his hip, and settled into his place. But the men nearestthe crack and the knot-hole fell to digging out the renegade grains, and piously offering them to their lawful owner. 

"That ain't worth botherin' about, " laughed Dillon; "you always reckonto lose a little each time, even if you got a China soup-plate. "

"Plenty more where that came from, " said the General, easily. 

Such indifference was felt to be magnificent indeed. The littleincident said more for the richness of Minóok than all the General'sblowing; they forgot that what was lost would amount to less than fiftycents. The fact that it was gold--Minóok gold--gave it a symbolic valuenot to be computed in coin. 

"How do you go?" asked the Colonel, as the two millionaires beganputting on their things. 

"We cut across to Kuskoquim. Take on an Indian guide there to Nushagak, and from there with dogs across the ocean ice to Kadiak. "

"Oh! the way the letters go out. "

"When they _do_, " smiled Dillon. "Yes, it's the old Russian Post Trail, I believe. South of Kadiak Island the sea is said to be open as earlyas the first of March. We'll get a steamer to Sitka, and from Sitka, ofcourse, the boats run regular. "

"Seattle by the middle of March!" says the General. "Come along, Dillon; the sooner you get to Seattle, and blow in a couple o' hundredthousand, the sooner you'll get back to Minóok. "

Dillon went out and roused up the dogs, asleep in the snow, with theirbushy tails sheltering their sharp noses. 

"See you later?"

"Yes, 'outside. '"

"Outside? No, sir! _Inside_. "

Dillon swore a blood-curdling string of curses and cracked his whipover the leader. 

"Why, you comin' back?"

"Bet your life!"

And nobody who looked at the face of the Yukon pioneer could doubt hemeant what he said. 

They went indoors. The cabin wore an unwonted and a rakish air. Thestools seemed to have tried to dance the lancers and have fallen outabout the figure. Two were overturned. The unwashed dishes were tossedhelter-skelter. A tipsy Christmas tree leaned in drunken fashionagainst the wall, and under its boughs lay a forgotten child asleep. Onthe other side of the cabin an empty whisky bottle caught a ray oflight from the fire, and glinted feebly back. Among the ashes on thehearth was a screw of paper, charred at one end, and thrown there afterlighting someone's pipe. The Boy opened it. The famous programme of theYukon Symposium!

"It's been a different sort of Christmas from what we planned, "observed the Colonel, not quite as gaily as you might expect. 

"Begob!" says O'Flynn, stretching out his interminable legs; "ye can'tsay we haven't hearrd Glad Tidings of gr-reat j'y--"

"Colonel, " interrupts the Boy, throwing the Programme in the fire, "let's look at your nugget again. "

And they all took turns. Except Potts. He was busy digging theremaining gold-grains out of the crack and the knothole. 

CHAPTER IX

A CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

 "--giver mig Rum! Himlen bar Stjerner Natten er stum. "

It was a good many days before they got the dazzle of that gold out oftheir eyes. They found their tongues again, and talked "Minóok" frommorning till night among themselves and with the rare passer up or downthe trail. 

Mac began to think they might get dogs at Anvik, or at one of theIngalik villages, a little further on. The balance of opinion in thecamp was against this view. But he had Potts on his side. When the NewYear opened, the trail was in capital condition. On the second ofJanuary two lots of Indians passed, one with dogs hauling flour andbacon for Benham, and the other lot without dogs, dragging lighthand-sleds. Potts said restlessly:

"After all, _they_ can do it. "

"So can we if we've a mind to, " said Mac. 

"Come on, then. "

The camp tried hard to dissuade them. Naturally neither listened. Theypacked the Boy's sled and set off on the morning of the third, toKaviak's unbounded surprise and disgust, his view of life being that, wherever Mac went, he was bound to follow. And he did follow--made offas hard as his swift little feet could carry him, straight up the Yukontrail, and Farva lost a good half of that first morning bringing himhome. 

Just eight days later the two men walked into the Cabin and satdown--Potts with a heart-rending groan, Mac with his jaw almostdislocated in his cast-iron attempt to set his face against defeat;their lips were cracked with the cold, their faces raw from frostbite, their eyes inflamed. The weather--they called it the weather--had beentoo much for them. It was obvious they hadn't brought back any dogs, but--

"What did you think of Anvik?" says the Boy. 

"Anvik? You don't suppose we got to Anvik in weather like this!"

"How far _did_ you get?"

Mac didn't answer. Potts only groaned. He had frozen his cheek and hisright hand. 

They were doctored and put to bed. 

"Did you see my friends at Holy Cross?" the Boy asked Potts when hebrought him a bowl of hot bean-soup. 

"You don't suppose we got as far as Holy Cross, with the wind--"

"Well, where _did_ you get to? Where you been?"

"Second native village above. "

"Why, that isn't more'n sixteen miles. "

"Sixteen miles too far. "

Potts breathed long and deep between hot and comforting swallows. 

"Where's the Boy's sled?" said the Colonel, coming in hurriedly. 

"We cached it, " answered Potts feebly. 

"Couldn't even bring his sled home! _Where've_ you cached it?"

"It's all right--only a few miles back. "

Potts relinquished the empty soup-bowl, and closed his eyes. 

 * * * * *

When he opened them again late in the evening it was to say:

"Found some o' those suckers who were goin' so slick to Minóok; some o'_them_ down at the second village, and the rest are winterin' in Anvik, so the Indians say. Not a single son of a gun will see the diggins tillthe ice goes out. "

"Then, badly off as we are here, " says the Colonel to the Boy, "it'slucky for us we didn't join the procession. "

When Mac and the Boy brought the sled home a couple of days later, itwas found that a portion of its cargo consisted of a toy kyak and twobottles of hootchino, the maddening drink concocted by the natives outof fermented dough and sugar. 

Apart from the question of drinking raised again by the "hootch, " it isperhaps possible that, having so little else to do, they were ready toeat the more; it is also true that, busy or idle, the human bodyrequires more nourishment in the North than it does in the South. 

Certainly the men of the little Yukon camp began to find their rationshorribly short commons, and to suffer a continual hunger, never whollyappeased. It is conditions like these that bring out the brute latentin all men. The day came to mean three scant meals. Each meal came tomean a silent struggle in each man's soul not to let his stomach getthe better of his head and heart. At first they joked and laughed abouttheir hunger and the scarcity. By-and-by it became too serious, thejest was wry-faced and rang false. They had, in the beginning, eachhelped himself from common dishes set in the middle of the rough planktable. Later, each found how, without meaning to--hating himself forit--he watched food on its way to others' plates with an evil eye. Whenit came to his turn, he had an ever-recurrent struggle with himself notto take the lion's share. There were ironical comments now and then, and ill-concealed bitterness. No one of the five would have believed hecould feel so towards a human being about a morsel of food, but thosewho think they would be above it, have not wintered in the Arcticregions or fought in the Boer War. The difficulty was frankly faced atlast, and it was ordained in council that the Colonel should bedispenser of the food. 

"Can't say I like the office, " quoth he, "but here goes!" and he cutthe bacon with an anxious hand, and spooned out the beans solemnly asif he weighed each "go. " And the Trio presently retired to the LittleCabin to discuss whether the Colonel didn't show favouritism to theBoy, and, when Mac was asleep, how they could get rid of Kaviak. 

So presently another council was called, and the Colonel resigned hisoffice, stipulating that each man in turn should hold it for a week, and learn how ungrateful it was. Moreover, that whoever was, for thenonce, occupying the painful post, should be loyally upheld by all theothers, which arrangement was in force to the end. 

And still, on grounds political, religious, social, trivial, thedisaffection grew. Two of the Trio sided against the odd man, Potts, and turned him out of the Little Cabin one night during a furioussnowstorm, that had already lasted two days, had more than half buriedthe hut, and nearly snowed up the little doorway. The Colonel and theBoy had been shovelling nearly all the day before to keep free theentrance to the Big Cabin and the precious "bottle" window, as well astheir half of the path between the two dwellings. O'Flynn and Potts hadplayed poker and quarrelled as usual. 

The morning after the ejection of Potts, and his unwilling reception atthe Big Cabin, Mac and O'Flynn failed to appear for breakfast. 

"Guess they're huffy, " says Potts, stretching out his feet, verycomfortable in their straw-lined mucklucks, before the big blaze. "Bring on the coffee, Kaviak. "

"No, " says the Colonel, "we won't begin without the other fellows. "

"By the living Jingo, _I_ will then!" says Potts, and helps himselfunder the Colonel's angry eyes. 

The other two conferred a moment, then drew on their parkis andmittens, and with great difficulty, in spite of yesterday's work, gotthe door open. It was pretty dark, but there was no doubt about it, theLittle Cabin had disappeared. 

"Look! isn't that a curl of smoke?" said the Boy. 

"Yes, by George! they're snowed under!"

"Serve 'em right!"

A heavy sigh from the Colonel. "Yes, but _we'll_ have to dig 'em out!"

"Look here, Colonel"--the Boy spoke with touching solemnity--"_notbefore breakfast!_"

"Right you are!" laughed the Colonel; and they went in. 

It was that day, after the others had been released and fed, that theBoy fell out with Potts concerning who had lost the hatchet--and theycame to blows. A black eye and a bloody nose might not seem anilluminating contribution to the question, but no more was said aboutthe hatchet after the Colonel had dragged the Boy off the prostrateform of his adversary. 

But the Colonel himself lost his temper two days later when O'Flynnbroached the seal set months before on the nearly empty demijohn. Forthose famous "temperance punches" the Colonel had drawn on his ownsmall stock. He saw his blunder when O'Flynn, possessing himself of thedemijohn, roared out:

"It's my whisky, I tell you! I bought it and paid furr it, and but forme it would be at the bottom o' the Yukon now. "

"Yes, and you'd be at the bottom of the Yukon yourself if you hadn'tbeen dragged out by the scruff o' your neck. And you'd be in a prettyfix now, if we left you alone with your whisky, which is about allyou've got. "

"We agreed, " Potts chipped in, "that it should be kept for medicinalpurposes only. "

Sullenly O'Flynn sipped at his grog. Potts had "hogged most of thehootch. "

 * * * * *

"Look here, Boy, " said Mac at supper, "I said I wouldn't eat off thisplate again. "

"Oh, dry up! One tin plate's like another tin plate. "

"Are you reflecting on the washer-up, Mr. MacCann?" asked Potts. 

"I'm saying what I've said before--that I've scratched my name on myplate, and I won't eat off this rusty, battered kettle-lid. "

He held it up as if to shy it at the Boy. The young fellow turned witha flash in his eye and stood taut. Then in the pause he said quite low:

"Let her fly, MacCann. "

But MacCann thought better of it. He threw the plate down on the tablewith a clatter. The Colonel jumped up and bent over the mush-pot at thefire, beside the Boy, whispering to him. 

"Oh, all right. "

When the Boy turned back to the table, with the smoking kettle, thecloud had gone from his face. MacCann had got up to hang a blanket overthe door. While his back was turned the Boy brought a tin plate, stillin good condition, set it down at Mac's place, planted a nail on end inthe middle, and with three blows from a hammer fastened the platefirmly to the board. 

"Maybe you can't hand it up for more as often as you like, but you'llalways find it there, " he said when McCann came back. And the laughwent against the dainty pioneer, who to the end of the chapter ate froma plate nailed fast to the table. 

"I begin to understand, " says the Colonel to the Boy, under cover ofthe others' talk, "why it's said to be such a devil of a test of afellow's decency to winter in this infernal country. "

"They say it's always a man's pardner he comes to hate most, " returnedthe Boy, laughing good-humouredly at the Colonel. 

"Naturally. Look at the row in the Little Cabin. "

"That hasn't been the only row, " the Boy went on more thoughtfully. "Isay, Colonel"--he lowered his voice--"do you know there'll have to be anew system of rations? I've been afraid--now I'm _sure_--the grub won'tlast till the ice goes out. "

"I know it, " said the Colonel very gravely. 

"Was there a miscalculation?"

"I hope it was that--or else, " speaking still lower, "the stores havebeen tampered with, and not by Kaviak either. There'll be a hell of arow. " He looked up, and saw Potts watching them suspiciously. It hadcome to this: if two men talked low the others pricked their ears. "Butlack of grub, " resumed the Colonel in his usual voice, as though he hadnot noticed, "is only one of our difficulties. Lack of work is justabout as bad. It breeds a thousand devils. We're a pack o' fools. Herewe are, all of us, hard hit, some of us pretty well cleaned out o'ready cash, and here's dollars and dollars all round us, and we sitover the fire like a lot of God-forsaken natives. "

"Dollars! Where?"

"Growin' on the trees, boys; a forest full. "

"Oh, timber. " Enthusiasm cooled. 

"Look at what they say about those fellows up at Anvik, what they madelast year. "

"They've got a saw-mill. "

"_Now_ they have. But they cut and sold cord-wood to the steamers twoyears before they got a mill, and next summer will be the biggestseason yet. We ought to have set to, as soon as the cabins were built, and cut wood for the summer traffic. But since there are five of us, wecan make a good thing of it yet. "

The Colonel finally carried the day. They went at it next morning, and, as the projector of the work had privately predicted, a better spiritprevailed in the camp for some time. But here were five men, only oneof whom had had any of the steadying grace of stiff discipline in hislife, men of haphazard education, who had "chucked" more or less easyberths in a land of many creature comforts ... For this--to fell andhaul birch and fir trees in an Arctic climate on half-rations! It beganto be apparent that the same spirit was invading the forest that hadpossession of the camp; two, or at most three, did the work, and therest shirked, got snow-blindness and rheumatism, and let the others dohis share, counting securely, nevertheless, on his fifth of theproceeds, just as he counted (no matter what proportion he hadcontributed) on his full share of the common stock of food. 

"I came out here a Communist--" said the Boy one day to the Colonel. 

"And an agnostic, " smiled the older man. 

"Oh, I'm an agnostic all right, now and for ever. But this winter hascured my faith in Communism. "

Early February brought not only lengthening daylight, but a radicalchange in the weather. The woodsmen worked in their shirt-sleeves, perspired freely, and said in the innocence of their hearts, "If wintercomes early up here, spring does the same. " The whole hillside was oneslush, and the snow melting on the ill-made Little Cabin roof brought ashower-bath into the upper bunk. 

Few things in nature so surely stir the pulse of man as the untimelycoming of a few spring days, that have lost their way in the calendar, and wandered into winter. No trouble now to get the Big Chimney menaway from the fireside. They held up their bloodless faces in the faintsunshine, and their eyes, with the pupils enlarged by the long reign ofnight, blinked feebly, like an owl's forced to face the morning. 

There were none of those signs in the animal world outside, ofpremature stir and cheerful awaking, that in other lands help theillusion that winter lies behind, but there was that even morestimulating sweet air abroad, that subtle mixture of sun and yieldingfrost, that softened wind that comes blowing across the snow, stillkeen to the cheek, but subtly reviving to the sensitive nostril, andcaressing to the eyes. The Big Chimney men drew deep breaths, and saidin their hearts the battle was over and won. 

Kaviak, for ever following at Mac's heels "like a rale Irish tarrier, "found his allegiance waver in these stirring, blissful days, if everFarva so belied character and custom as to swing an axe for any lengthof time. Plainly out of patience, Kaviak would throw off the musk-ratcoat, and run about in wet mucklucks and a single garment--uphill, downhill, on important errands which he confided to no man. 

It is part of the sorcery of such days that men's thoughts, likebirds', turn to other places, impatient of the haven that gave themshelter in rough weather overpast. The Big Chimney men leaned on theiraxes and looked north, south, east, west. 

Then the Colonel would give a little start, turn about, lift hisdouble-bitter, and swing it frontier fashion, first over one shoulder, then over the other, striking cleanly home each time, working with akind of splendid rhythm more harmonious, more beautiful to look at, than most of the works of men. This was, perhaps, the view of hiscomrades, for they did a good deal of looking at the Colonel. He saidhe was a modest man and didn't like it, and Mac, turning a little rustyunder the gibe, answered:

"Haven't you got the sense to see we've cut all the good timber justround here?" and again he turned his eyes to the horizon line. 

"Mac's right, " said the Boy; and even the Colonel stood still a moment, and they all looked away to that land at the end of the world where thebest materials are for the building of castles--it's the same countryso plainly pointed out by the Rainbow's End, and never so much as inthe springtime does it lure men with its ancient promise. 

"Come along, Colonel; let's go and look for real timber--"

"And let's find it nearer water-level--where the steamers can see itright away. "

"What about the kid?"

"Me come, " said Kaviak, with a highly obliging air. 

"No; you stay at home. "

"No; go too. "

"Go too, thou babbler! Kaviak's a better trail man than some I couldmention. "

"We'll have to carry him home, " objected Potts. 

"Now don't tell us you'll do any of the carryin', or we'll loseconfidence in you, Potts. "

The trail was something awful, but on their Canadian snowshoes they gotas far as an island, six miles off. One end of it was better woodedthan any easily accessible place they had seen. 

"Why, this is quite like real spruce, " said the Boy, and O'Flynnadmitted that even in California "these here would be called 'trees'wid no intintion o' bein' sarcaustic. "

So they cut holes in the ice, and sounded for the channel. 

"Yes, sir, the steamers can make a landin' here, and here's where we'llhave our wood-rack. "

They went home in better spirits than they had been in since thatwelter of gold had lain on the Big Cabin table. 

 * * * * *

But a few days sufficed to wear the novelty off the new wood camp formost of the party. Potts and O'Flynn set out in the opposite directionone morning with a hand-sled, and provisions to last several days. Theywere sick of bacon and beans, and were "goin' huntin'. " No one coulddeny that a moose or even a grouse--anything in the shape of freshmeat--was sufficiently needed. But Potts and O'Flynn were really sickand sore from their recent slight attack of wood-felling. They wereafter bigger game, too, as well as grouse, and a few days "off. " It hadturned just enough colder to glaze the trail and put it in finecondition. They went down the river to the _Oklahoma, _ were generouslyentertained by Captain Rainey, and learned that, with earlier contractson his hands, he did not want more wood from them than they had alreadycorded. They returned to the camp without game, but with plenty ofwhisky, and information that freed them from the yoke of labour, andfrom the lash of ironic comment. In vain the Colonel urged that the_Oklahoma_ was not the only steamer plying the Yukon, that with the bigrush of the coming season the traffic would be enormous, and awood-pile as good as a gold mine. The cause was lost. 

"You won't get us to make galley-slaves of ourselves on the off-chanceof selling. Rainey says that wood camps have sprung up like mushroomsall along the river. The price of wood will go down to--"

"All along the river! There isn't one between us and Andreievsky, norbetween here and Holy Cross. "

But it was no use. The travellers pledged each other in _Oklahoma_whisky, and making a common cause once more, the original Trio put in anight of it. The Boy and the Colonel turned into their bunks at eleveno'clock. They were roused in the small hours, by Kaviak's frightenedcrying, and the noise of angry voices. 

"You let the kid alone. "

"Well, it's mesilf that'll take the liberty o' mintionin' that I ain'tgoin' to stand furr another minyit an Esquimer's cuttin' down _my_rations. Sure it's a fool I've been!"

"You can't help that, " Mac chopped out. 

"Say Mac, " said Potts in a drunken voice, "I'm talkin' to you like afriend. You want to get a move on that kid. "

"Kaviak's goin' won't make any more difference than a fly's. "

The other two grumbled incoherently. 

"But I tell you what _would_ make a difference: if you two would quiteatin' on the sly--out o' meal-times. "

"Be the Siven!"

"You lie!" A movement, a stool overturned, and the two men in the bunkswere struck broad awake by the smart concussion of a gun-shot. Nobodywas hurt, and between them they disarmed Potts, and turned the Irishmanout to cool off in his own cabin. It was all over in a minute. Kaviak, reassured, curled down to sleep again. Mac and Potts stretchedthemselves on the buffalo-robe half under the table, and speedily fellto snoring. The Boy put on some logs. He and the Colonel sat andwatched the sparks. 

"It's a bad business. "

"It can't go on, " says the Colonel; "but Mac's right: Kaviak's beinghere isn't to blame. They--we, too--are like a lot of powder-cans. "

The Boy nodded. "Any day a spark, and _biff!_ some of us are in ablaze, and wh-tt! bang! and some of us are in Kingdom Come. "

"I begin to be afraid to open my lips, " said the Colonel. "We all are;don't you notice?"

"Yes. I wonder why we came. "

"_You_ had no excuse, " said the elder man almost angrily. 

"Same excuse as you. "

The Colonel shook his head. 

"Exactly, " maintained the Boy. "Tired of towns and desk-work, and--and--" The Boy shifted about on his wooden stool, and held up hishands to the reviving blaze. "Life owes us steady fellows one year offreedom, anyhow--one year to make ducks and drakes of. Besides, we'veall come to make our fortunes. Doesn't every mother's son of us mean tofind a gold-mine in the spring when we get to the Klondyke--eh?" And helaughed again, and presently he yawned, and tumbled back into his bunk. But he put his head out in a moment. "Aren't you going to bed?"

"Yes. " The Colonel stood up. 

"Did you know Father Wills went by, last night, when those fellowsbegan to row about getting out the whisky?"

"No. "

"He says there's another stampede on. "

"Where to?"

"Koyukuk this time. "

"Why didn't he come in?"

"Awful hurry to get to somebody that sent for him. Funny fellas theseJesuits. They _believe_ all those odd things they teach. "

"So do other men, " said the Colonel, curtly. 

"Well, I've lived in a Christian country all my life, but I don't knowthat I ever saw Christianity _practised_ till I went up the Yukon toHoly Cross. "

"I must say you're complimentary to the few other Christians scatteredabout the world. "

"Don't get mifft, Colonel. I've known plenty of people straight as adie, and capital good fellows. I've seen them do very decent things nowand then. But with these Jesuit missionaries--Lord! there's no let upto it. "

No answer from the Protestant Colonel. Presently the Boy in a sleepyvoice added elegantly:

"No Siree! The Jesuits go the whole hog!"

 * * * * *

Winter was down on the camp again. The whole world was hard as iron. The men kept close to the Big Chimney all day long, and sat there farinto the small hours of the morning, saying little, heavy-eyed andsullen. The dreaded insomnia of the Arctic had laid hold on all but theColonel. Even his usually unbroken repose was again disturbed one nightabout a week later. Some vague sort of sound or movement in theroom--Kaviak on a raid?--or--wasn't that the closing of a door?

"Kaviak!" He put his hand down and felt the straight hair of theEsquimaux in the under bunk. "Potts! Who's there?" He half sat up. "Boy! Did you hear that, Boy?"

He leaned far down over the side and saw distinctly by the fire-lightthere was nobody but Kaviak in the under bunk. 

The Colonel was on his legs in a flash, putting his head through hisparki and drawing on his mucklucks. He didn't wait to cross and tie thethongs. A presentiment of evil was strong upon him. Outside in thefaint star-light he thought a dim shape was passing down towards theriver. 

"Who's that? Hi, there! Stop, or I'll shoot!" He hadn't brought hisgun, but the ruse worked. 

"Don't shoot!" came back the voice of the Boy. 

The Colonel stumbled down the bank in the snow, and soon stood by theshape. The Boy was dressed for a journey. His Arctic cap was drawn downover his ears and neck. The wolf-skin fringe of his parki hood stoodout fiercely round the defiant young face. Wound about one of hisseal-skin mittens was the rope of the new hand-sled he'd beenfashioning so busily of nights by the camp fire. His two blankets werestrapped on the sled, Indian fashion, along with a gunny sack and hisrifle. 

The two men stood looking angrily at each other a moment, and then theColonel politely inquired:

"What in hell are you doing?"

"Goin' to Minóok. "

"The devil you are!"

"Yes, the devil I am!"

They stood measuring each other in the dim light, till the Colonel'seyes fell on the loaded sled. The Boy's followed. 

"I've only taken short rations for two weeks. I left a statement in thecabin; it's about a fifth of what's my share, so there's no need of arow. "

"What are you goin' for?"

"Why, to be first in the field, and stake a gold-mine, of course. "

The Colonel laid a rough hand on the Boy's shoulder. He shook it offimpatiently, and before the older man could speak:

"Look here, let's talk sense. Somebody's got to go, or there'll betrouble. Potts says Kaviak. But what difference would Kaviak make? I'vebeen afraid you'd get ahead of me. I've watched you for a week like ahawk watches a chicken. But it's clear I'm the one to go. "

He pulled up the rope of the sled, and his little cargo lurched towardshim. The Colonel stepped in front of him. 

"Boy--" he began, but something was the matter with his voice; he gotno further. 

"I'm the youngest, " boasted the other, "and I'm the strongest, and--I'mthe hungriest. "

The Colonel found a perturbed and husky voice in which to say:

"I didn't know you were such a Christian. "

"Nothin' o' the sort. "

"What's this but--"

"Why, it's just--just my little scheme. "

"You're no fool. You know as well as I do you've got the devil's ownjob in hand. "

"Somebody's got to go, " he repeated doggedly. 

"Look here, " said the Colonel, "you haven't impressed me as being tiredof life. "

"Tired of life!" The young eyes flashed in that weird aureole of longwolf-hair. "Tired of life! Well, I should just pretty nearly think Iwasn't. "

"H'm! Then if it isn't Christianity, it must be because you're young. "

"Golly, man! it's because I'm hungry--HUNGRY! Great Jehosaphat! I couldeat an ox!"

"And you leave your grub behind, to be eaten by a lot of--"

"I can't stand here argyfying with the thermometer down to--" The Boybegan to drag the sled over the snow. 

"Come back into the cabin. "

"No. "

"Come with me, I say; I've got something to propose. " Again the Colonelstood in front, barring the way. "Look here, " he went on gently, "areyou a friend of mine?"

"Oh, so-so, " growled the Boy. But after looking about him for an angrysecond or two, he flung down the rope of his sled, walked sulkilyuphill, and kicked off his snow-shoes at the door of the cabin, allwith the air of one who waits, but is not baulked of his purpose. Theywent in and stripped off their furs. 

"Now see here: if you've made up your mind to light out, I'm not goingto oppose you. "

"Why didn't you say anything as sensible as that out yonder?"

"Because I won't be ready to go along till to-morrow. "

"You?"

"Yep. "

There was a little silence. 

"I wish you wouldn't, Colonel. "

"It's dangerous alone--not for two. "

"Yes, it IS dangerous, and you know it. "

"I'm goin' along, laddie. " Seeing the Boy look precious grave andharassed: "What's the matter?"

"I'd hate awfully for anything to happen to you. "

The Colonel laughed. "Much obliged, but it matters uncommon little if Ido drop in my tracks. "

"You be blowed!"

"You see I've got a pretty bad kind of a complaint, anyhow. " The Boyleaned over in the firelight and scanned the Colonel's face. 

"What's wrong?"

The Colonel smiled a queer little one-sided smile. "I've been out o'kelter nearly ten years. "

"Oh, _that's_ all right. You'll go on for another thirty if you staywhere you are till the ice goes out. "

The Colonel bent his head, and stared at the smooth-trodden floor atthe edge of the buffalo-skin. "To tell the truth, I'll be glad to go, not only because of--" He hitched his shoulders towards the cornerwhence came the hoarse and muffled breathing of the Denver clerk. "I'llbe glad to have something to tire me out, so I'll sleep--sleep toosound to dream. That's what I came for, not to sit idle in a God-damncabin and think--think--" He got up suddenly and strode the tiny spacefrom fire to door, a man transformed, with hands clenching and darkface almost evil. "They say the men who winter up here either take todrink or go mad. I begin to see it is so. It's no place to do anyforgetting in. " He stopped suddenly before the Boy with glitteringeyes. "It's the country where your conscience finds you out. "

"That religion of yours is makin' you morbid, Colonel. " The Boy spokewith the detached and soothing air of a sage. 

"You don't know what you're talking about. " He turned sharply away. TheBoy relapsed into silence. The Colonel in his renewed prowling broughtup against the wooden crane. He stood looking down into the fire. Loudand regular sounded the sleeping man's breathing in the quiet littleroom. 

"I did a wrong once to a woman--ten years ago, " said the Colonel, speaking to the back-log--"although I loved her. " He raised a hand tohis eyes with a queer choking sound. "I loved her, " he repeated, stillwith his back to the Boy. "By-and-by I could have righted it, butshe--she wasn't the kind to hang about and wait on a man's betternature when once he'd shown himself a coward. She skipped the country. "He leaned his head against the end of the shelf over the fire, and saidno more. 

"Go back in the spring, find out where she is, and--"

"I've spent every spring and every summer, every fall and every wintertill this one, trying to do just that thing. "

"You can't find her?"

"Nobody can find her. "

"She's dead--"

"She's _not_ dead!"

The Boy involuntarily shrank back; the Colonel looked ready to smashhim. The action recalled the older man to himself. 

"I feel sure she isn't dead, " he said more quietly, but stilltrembling. "No, no; she isn't dead. She had some money of her own, andshe went abroad. I followed her. I heard of her in Paris, in Rome. Isaw her once in a droschky in Vienna; there I lost the trail. Herpeople said she'd gone to Japan. _I_ went to Japan. I'm sure she wasn'tin the islands. I've spent my life since trying to find her--writingher letters that always come back--trying--" His voice went out like acandle-wick suddenly dying in the socket. Only the sleeper was audiblefor full five minutes. Then, as though he had paused only a comma'sspace, the Colonel went on: "I've been trying to put the memory of herbehind me, as a sane man should. But some women leave an arrow stickingin your flesh that you can never pull out. You can only jar against it, and cringe under the agony of the reminder all your life long.... Bah!Go out, Boy, and bring in your sled. "

And the Boy obeyed without a word. 

Two days after, three men with a child stood in front of the largercabin, saying good-bye to their two comrades who were starting out onsnow-shoes to do a little matter of 625 miles of Arctic travelling, with two weeks' scant provisioning, some tea and things for trading, bedding, two rifles, and a kettle, all packed on one little hand-sled. 

There had been some unexpected feeling, and even some real generosityshown at the last, on the part of the three who were to profit by theexodus--falling heir thereby to a bigger, warmer cabin and more food. 

O'Flynn was moved to make several touching remonstrances. It was a signof unwonted emotion on Mac's part that he gave up arguing (sacrificingall the delight of a set debate), and simply begged and prayed them notto be fools, not to fly in the face of Providence. 

But Potts was made of sterner stuff. Besides, the thing was too good tobe true. O'Flynn, when he found they were not to be dissuaded, solemnlypresented each with a little bottle of whisky. Nobody would havebelieved O'Flynn would go so far as that. Nor could anyone haveanticipated that close-fisted Mac would give the Boy his valuableaneroid barometer and compass, or that Potts would be so generous withhis best Virginia straight-cut, filling the Colonel's big pouch withoutso much as a word. 

"It's a crazy scheme, " says he, shaking the giant Kentuckian by thehand, "and you won't get thirty miles before you find it out. "

"Call it an expedition to Anvik, " urged Mac. "Load up there withreindeer meat, and come back. If we don't get some fresh meat soon, we'll be having scurvy. "

"What you're furr doin', " says O'Flynn for the twentieth time, "hasniver been done, not ayven be Indians. The prastes ahl say so. "

"So do the Sour-doughs, " said Mac. "It isn't as if you had dogs. "

"Good-bye, " said the Colonel, and the men grasped hands. 

Potts shook hands with the Boy as heartily as though that same hand hadnever half throttled him in the cause of a missing hatchet. 

"Good-bye, Kiddie. I bequeath you my share o' syrup. "

"Good-bye; meet you in the Klondyke!"

"Good-bye. Hooray for the Klondyke in June!"

"Klondyke in June! Hoop-la!"

The two travellers looked back, laughing and nodding, as jolly as youplease. The Boy stooped, made a snow-ball, and fired it at Kaviak. Thechild ducked, chuckling, and returned as good as he got. His looselypacked ball broke in a splash on the back of the Boy's parki, andKaviak was loudly cheered. 

Still, as they went forward, they looked back. The Big Chimney wore anair wondrous friendly, and the wide, white world looked coldly at them, with small pretence of welcome or reward. 

"I don't believe I ever really knew how awful jolly the Big Chimneywas--till this minute. "

The Colonel smiled. "Hardly like myself, to think whatever else I see, I'll never see that again. "

"Better not boast. "

The Colonel went on in front, breaking trail in the newfallen snow, theBoy pulling the sled behind him as lightly as if its double burden werea feather. 

"They look as if they thought it'd be a picnic, " says Mac, grimly. 

"I wonder be the Siven Howly Pipers! will we iver see ayther of 'emagain. "

"If they only stay a couple o' nights at Anvik, " said Potts, withgloomy foreboding, "they could get back here inside a week. "

"No, " answered Mac, following the two figures with serious eyes, "theymay be dead inside a week, but they won't be back here. "

And Potts felt his anxiety eased. A man who had mined at Caribou oughtto know. 

CHAPTER X

PRINCESS MUCKLUCK

 "We all went to Tibbals to see the Kinge, who used my mother and my aunt very gratiouslie; but we all saw a great chaunge betweene the fashion of the Court as it was now, and of y in ye Queene's, for we were all lowzy by sittinge in Sr Thomas Erskin's chamber. " _Memoir: Anne Countess of Dorset_, 1603. 

It was the 26th of February, that first day that they "hit the LongTrail. "

Temperature only about twenty degrees, the Colonel thought, and solittle wind it had the effect of being warmer. Trail in fair condition, weather gray and steady. Never men in better spirits. To have left thewrangling and the smouldering danger of the camp behind, that alone, asthe Boy said, was "worth the price of admission. " Exhilarating, too, tomen of their temperament, to have cut the Gordian knot of thedifficulty by risking themselves on this unprecedented quest for peaceand food. Gold, too? Oh, yes--with a smile to see how far that mainobject had drifted into the background--they added, "and for gold. "

They believed they had hearkened well to the counsel that bade them"travel light. " "Remember, every added ounce is against you. " "Nobodyin the North owns anything that's heavy, " had been said in one fashionor another so often that it lost its ironic sound in the ears of menwho had come so far to carry away one of the heaviest things under thesun. 

The Colonel and the Boy took no tent, no stove, not even a miner's pickand pan. These last, General Lighter had said, could be obtained atMinóok; and "there isn't a cabin on the trail, " Dillon had added, "without 'em. "

For the rest, the carefully-selected pack on the sled contained themarmot-skin, woollen blankets, a change of flannels apiece, a couple ofsweaters, a Norfolk jacket, and several changes of foot-gear. This lastitem was dwelt on earnestly by all. "Keep your feet dry, " John Dillonhad said, "and leave the rest to God Almighty. " They were taking barelytwo weeks' rations, and a certain amount of stuff to trade with theup-river Indians, when their supplies should be gone. They carried akettle, an axe, some quinine, a box of the carbolic ointment all minersuse for foot-soreness, O'Flynn's whisky, and two rifles and ammunition. In spite of having eliminated many things that most travellers wouldcount essential, they found their load came to a little over twohundred pounds. But every day would lessen it, they told each otherwith a laugh, and with an inward misgiving, lest the lightening shouldcome all too quickly. 

They had seen in camp that winter so much of the frailty of humantemper that, although full of faith by now in each other's native senseand fairness, they left nothing to a haphazard division of labour. Theyparcelled out the work of the day with absolute impartiality. To eachman so many hours of going ahead to break trail, if the snow was soft, while the other dragged the sled; or else while one pulled in front, the other pushed from behind, in regular shifts by the watch, turn andturn about. The Colonel had cooked all winter, so it was the Boy's turnat that--the Colonel's to decide the best place to camp, because it washis affair to find seasoned wood for fuel, his to build the fire in thesnow on green logs laid close together--his to chop enough wood to cookbreakfast the next morning. All this they had arranged before they leftthe Big Chimney. 

That they did not cover more ground that first day was a pure chance, not likely to recur, due to an unavoidable loss of time at Pymeut. 

Knowing the fascination that place exercised over his companion, theColonel called a halt about seven miles off from the Big Chimney, thatthey might quickly despatch a little cold luncheon they carried intheir pockets, and push on without a break till supper. 

"We've got no time to waste at Pymeut, " observes the Colonelsignificantly. 

"I ain't achin' to stop at Pymeut, " says his pardner with a superiorair, standing up, as he swallowed his last mouthful of cold bacon andcorn-bread, and cheerfully surveyed the waste. "Who says it's cold, even if the wind is up? And the track's bully. But see here, Colonel, you mustn't go thinkin' it's smooth glare-ice, like this, all the way. "

"Oh, I was figurin' that it would be. " But the Boy paid no heed to theirony. 

"And it's a custom o' the country to get the wind in your face, as arule, whichever way you go. "

"Well, I'm not complainin' as yet. "

"Reckon you needn't if you're blown like dandelion-down all the way toMinóok. Gee! the wind's stronger! Say, Colonel, let's rig a sail. "

"Foolishness. "

"No, sir. We'll go by Pymeut in an ice-boat, lickety split. And it'llbe a good excuse for not stopping, though I think we ought to saygood-bye to Nicholas. "

This view inclined the Colonel to think better of an ice-boat. He hadonce crossed the Bay of Toronto in that fashion, and began to wonder ifsuch a mode of progression applied to sleds might not aid largely insolving the Minóok problem. 

While he was wondering the Boy unlashed the sled-load, and pulled offthe canvas cover as the Colonel came back with his mast. Between them, with no better tools than axe, jack-knives, and a rope, and withfingers freezing in the south wind, they rigged the sail. 

The fact that they had this increasingly favourable wind on their veryfirst day showed that they were specially smiled on by the greatnatural forces. The superstitious feeling that only slumbers in mostbreasts, that Mother Nature is still a mysterious being, who has herfavourites whom she guards, her born enemies whom she baulks, pursues, and finally overwhelms, the age-old childishness stirred pleasantly inboth men, and in the younger came forth unabashed in speech:

"I tell you the omens are good! This expedition's goin' to get there. "Then, with the involuntary misgiving that follows hard upon suchboasting, he laughed uneasily and added, "I mean to sacrifice the firstdeer's tongue I don't want myself, to Yukon Inua; but here's to thesouth wind!" He turned some corn-bread crumbs out of his pocket, andsaw, delighted, how the gale, grown keener, snatched eagerly at themand hurried them up the trail. The ice-boat careened and strainedeagerly to sail away. The two gold-seekers, laughing like schoolboys, sat astride the pack; the Colonel shook out the canvas, and theyscudded off up the river like mad. The great difficulty was thesteering; but it was rip-roaring fun, the Boy said, and very soon therewere natives running down to the river, to stare open-mouthed at theastounding apparition, to point and shout something unintelligible thatsounded like "Muchtaravik!"

"Why, it's the Pymeuts! Pardner, we'll be in Minóok by supper-ti--"

The words hadn't left his lips when he saw, a few yards in front ofthem, a faint cloud of steam rising up from the ice--that dimdanger-signal that flies above an air-hole. The Colonel, nevernoticing, was heading straight for the ghastly trap. 

"God, Colonel! Blow-hole!" gasped the Boy. 

The Colonel simply rolled off the pack turning over and over on theice, but keeping hold of the rope. 

The sled swerved, turned on her side, and slid along with a sound ofsnapping and tearing. 

While they were still headed straight for the hole, the Boy hadgathered himself for a clear jump to the right, but the sled's suddenswerve to the left broke his angle sharply. He was flung forward on thenew impetus, spun over the smooth surface, swept across the verge andunder the cloud, clutching wildly at the ragged edge of ice as he wentdown. 

All Pymeut had come rushing pell-mell. 

The Colonel was gathering himself up and looking round in a dazed kindof way as Nicholas flashed by. Just beyond, in that yawning hole, fullyten feet wide by fifteen long, the Boy's head appeared an instant, andthen was lost like something seen in a dream. Some of the Pymeuts withquick knives were cutting the canvas loose. One end was passed toNicholas; he knotted it to his belt, and went swiftly, but gingerly, forward nearer the perilous edge. He had flung himself down on hisstomach just as the Boy rose again. Nicholas lurched his body over thebrink, his arms outstretched, straining farther, farther yet, till itseemed as if only the counterweight of the rest of the population atthe other end of the canvas prevented his joining the Boy in the hole. But Nicholas had got a grip of him, and while two of the Pymeuts hungon to the half-stunned Colonel to prevent his adding to thecomplication, Nicholas, with a good deal of trouble in spite ofYagorsha's help, hauled the Boy out of the hole and dragged him up onthe ice-edge. The others applied themselves lustily to their end of thecanvas, and soon they were all at a safe distance from the yawningdanger. 

The Boy's predominant feeling had been one of intense surprise. Helooked round, and a hideous misgiving seized him. 

"Anything the matter with you, Colonel?" His tone was so angry that, asthey stared at each other, they both fell to laughing. 

"Well, I rather thought that was what _I_ was going to say"; andKentucky heaved a deep sigh of relief. 

The Boy's teeth began to chatter, and his clothes were soon freezing onhim. They got him up off the ice, and Nicholas and the sturdy oldPymeut story-teller, Yagorsha, walked him, or ran him rather, the restof the way to Pymeut, for they were not so near the village as thetravellers had supposed on seeing nearly the whole male population. TheColonel was not far behind, and several of the bucks were bringing thedisabled sled. Before reaching the Kachime, they were joined by thewomen and children, Muckluck much concerned at the sight of her friendglazed in ice from head to heel. Nicholas and Yagorsha half dragged, half pulled him into the Kachime. The entire escort followed, even twoor three very dirty little boys--everybody, except the handful of womenand girls left at the mouth of the underground entrance and the two menwho had run on to make a fire. It was already smoking viciously asthough the seal-lamps weren't doing enough in that line, when Yagorshaand Nicholas laid the half-frozen traveller on the sleeping-bench. 

The Pymeuts knew that the great thing was to get the ice-stiffenedclothes off as quickly as might be, and that is to be doneexpeditiously only by cutting them off. In vain the Boy protested. Recklessly they sawed and cut and stripped him, rubbed him and wrappedhim in a rabbit-blanket, the fur turned inside, and a wolverine skinover that. The Colonel at intervals poured small doses of O'Flynn'swhisky down the Boy's throat in spite of his unbecoming behaviour, forhe was both belligerent and ungrateful, complaining loudly of the ruinof his clothes with only such intermission as the teeth-chattering, swallowing, and rude handling necessitated. 

"I didn't like--bein' in--that blow-hole. (Do you know--it was socold--it burnt!) But I'd rather--be--in a blow-hole--than--br-r-r!Blow-hole isn't so s-s-melly as these s-s-kins!'

"You better be glad you've got a whole skin of your own and ain'tsmellin' brimstone, " said the Colonel, pouring a little more whiskydown the unthankful throat. "Pretty sort o' Klondyker you are--go andget nearly drowned first day out!" Several Pymeut women came inpresently and joined the men at the fire, chattering low and staring atthe Colonel and the Boy. 

"I can't go--to the Klondyke--naked--no, nor wrapped in arabbit-skin--like Baby Bunting--"

Nicholas was conferring with the Colonel and offering to take him toOl' Chief's. 

"Oh, yes; Ol' Chief got two clo'es. You come. Me show"; and theycrawled out one after the other. 

"You pretty near dead that time, " said one of the younger womenconversationally. 

"That's right. Who are you, anyway?"

"Me Anna--Yagorsha's daughter. "

"Oh, yes, I thought I'd seen you before. " She seemed to be only alittle older than Muckluck, but less attractive, chiefly on account ofher fat and her look of ill-temper. She was on specially bad terms witha buck they called Joe, and they seemed to pass all their time abusingone another. 

The Boy craned his neck and looked round. Except just where he waslying, the Pymeut men and women were crowded together, on that side ofthe Kachime, at his head and at his feet, thick as herrings on athwart. They all leaned forward and regarded him with a beady-eyedsympathy. He had never been so impressed by the fact before, but allthese native people, even in their gentlest moods, frowned in a chronicperplexity and wore their wide mouths open. He reflected that he hadnever seen one that didn't, except Muckluck. 

Here she was, crawling in with a tin can. 

"Got something there to eat?"

The rescued one craned his head as far as he could. 

"Too soon, " she said, showing her brilliant teeth in the fire-light. She set the tin down, looked round, a little embarrassed, and stirredthe fire, which didn't need it. 

"Well"--he put his chin down under the rabbit-skin once more--"how goesthe world, Princess?"

She flashed her quick smile again and nodded reassuringly. "You stayhere now?"

"No; goin' up river. "

"What for?" She spoke disapprovingly. 

"Want to get an Orange Grove. "

"Find him up river?"

"Hope so. "

"I think I go, too"; and all the grave folk, sitting so close on thesleeping-bench, stretched their wide mouths wider still, smilinggood-humouredly. 

"You better wait till summer. "

"Oh!" She lifted her head from the fire as one who takes careful noteof instructions. "Nex' summer?"

"Well, summer's the time for squaws to travel. "

"I come nex' summer, " she said. 

By-and-by Nicholas returned with a new parki and a pair of wonderfulbuckskin breeches--not like anything worn by the Lower River natives, or by the coast-men either: well cut, well made, and handsomely fringeddown the outside of the leg where an officer's gold stripe goes. 

"Chaparejos!" screamed the Boy. "Where'd you get 'em?"

"Ol' Chief--he ketch um. "

"They're _bully!_" said the Boy, holding the despised rabbit-skin underhis chin with both hands, and craning excitedly over it. He felt thathis fortunes were looking up. Talk about a tide in the affairs of men!Why, a tide that washes up to a wayfarer's feet a pair o' chaparejoslike that--well! legs so habited would simply _have_ to carry a fellaon to fortune. He lay back on the sleeping-bench with dancing eyes, while the raw whisky hummed in his head. In the dim light of seal-lampsvague visions visited him of stern and noble chiefs out of the LeatherStocking Stories of his childhood--men of daring, whose legs wereinvariably cased in buck-skin with dangling fringes. But the dashingrace was not all Indian, nor all dead. Famous cowboys reared before himon bucking bronchos, their leg-fringes streaming on the blast, anddesperate chaps who held up coaches and potted Wells Fargo guards. Anybody must needs be a devil of a fellow who went about in "shaps, " ashis California cousins called chaparejos. Even a peaceable fella likehimself, not out after gore at all, but after an Orange Grove--even he, once he put on--He laughed out loud at his childishness, and then grewgrave. "Say, Nicholas, what's the tax?"

"Hey?"

"How much?"

"Oh, your pardner--he pay. "

"Humph! I s'pose I'll know the worst on settlin'-day. "

Then, after a few moments, making a final clutch at economy before thewarmth and the whisky subdued him altogether:

"Say, Nicholas, have you got--hasn't the Ol' Chief got any--lessglorious breeches than those?"

"Hey?"

"Anything little cheaper?"

"Nuh, " says Nicholas. 

The Boy closed his eyes, relieved on the whole. Fate had a mind to seehim in chaparejos. Let her look to the sequel, then!

When consciousness came back it brought the sound of Yagorsha's yarningby the fire, and the occasional laugh or grunt punctuating the eternal"Story. "

The Colonel was sitting there among them, solacing himself by adding tothe smoke that thickened the stifling air. 

Presently the Story-teller made some shrewd hit, that shook the Pymeutcommunity into louder grunts of applause and a general chuckling. TheColonel turned his head slowly, and blew out a fresh cloud: "Goodjoke?"

In the pause that fell thereafter, Yagorsha, imperturbable, the onlyone who had not laughed, smoothed his lank, iron-gray locks down oneither side of his wide face, and went on renewing the sinew open-workin his snow-shoe. 

"When Ol' Chief's father die--"

All the Pymeuts chuckled afresh. The Boy listened eagerly. UsuallyYagorsha's stories were tragic, or, at least, of serious interest, ranging from bereaved parents who turned into wolverines, all the wayto the machinations of the Horrid Dwarf and the Cannibal Old Woman. 

The Colonel looked at Nicholas. He seemed as entertained as the rest, but quite willing to leave his family history in professional hands. 

"Ol' Chief's father, Glovotsky, him Russian, " Yagorsha began again, laying down his sinew-thread a moment and accepting some of theColonel's tobacco. 

"I didn't know you had any white blood in you, " interrupted theColonel, offering his pouch to Nicholas. "I might have suspectedMuckluck--"

"Heap got Russian blood, " interrupted Joe. 

As the Story-teller seemed to be about to repeat the enliveningtradition concerning the almost mythical youth of Ol' Chief's father, that subject of the great Katharine's, whose blood was flowing still inPymeut veins, just then in came Yagorsha's daughter with some messageto her father. He grunted acquiescence, and she turned to go. Joecalled something after her, and she snapped back. He jumped up to barher exit. She gave him a smart cuff across the eyes, which surprisedhim almost into the fire, and while he was recovering his equilibriumshe fled. Yagorsha and all the Pymeuts laughed delightedly at Joe'sdiscomfiture. 

The Boy had been obliged to sit up to watch this spirited encounter. The only notice the Colonel took of him was to set the kettle on thefire. While he was dining his pardner gathered up the blankets andcrawled out. 

"Comin' in half a minute, " the Boy called after him. The answer wasswallowed by the tunnel. 

"Him go say goo'-bye Ol' Chief, " said Nicholas, observing how theColonel's pardner was scalding himself in his haste to despatch asecond cup of tea. 

But the Boy bolted the last of his meal, gathered up the kettle, mug, and frying-pan, which had served him for plate as well, and wormed hisway out as fast as he could. There was the sled nearly packed for thejourney, and watching over it, keeping the dogs at bay, was anindescribably dirty little boy in a torn and greasy denim parki overrags of reindeer-skin. Nobody else in sight but Yagorsha's daughterdown at the water-hole. 

"Where's my pardner gone?" The child only stared, having no Englishapparently. 

While the Boy packed the rest of the things, and made the tatteredcanvas fast under the lashing, Joe came out of the Kachime. He stoodstudying the prospect a moment, and his dull eyes suddenly gleamed. Anna was coming up from the river with her dripping pail. He set offwith an affectation of leisurely indifference, but he made straight forhis enemy. She seemed not to see him till he was quite near, then shesheered off sharply. Joe hardly quickened his pace, but seemed to gain. She set down her bucket, and turned back towards the river. 

"Idiot!" ejaculated the Boy; "she could have reached her own ighloo. "The dirty child grinned, and tore off towards the river to watch thefun. Anna was hidden now by a pile of driftwood. The Boy ran down a fewyards to bring her within range again. For all his affectation ofleisureliness and her obvious fluster, no doubt about it, Joe wasgaining on her. She dropped her hurried walk and frankly took to herheels, Joe doing the same; but as she was nearly as fleet of foot asMuckluck, in spite of her fat, she still kept a lessening distancebetween herself and her pursuer. 

The ragged child had climbed upon the pile of drift-wood, and stoodhunched with the cold, his shoulders up to his ears, his handswithdrawn in his parki sleeves, but he was grinning still. The Boy, alittle concerned as to possible reprisals upon so impudent a youngwoman, had gone on and on, watching the race down to the river, andeven across the ice a little way. He stood still an instant staring asJoe, going now as hard as he could, caught up with her at last. He tookhold of the daughter of the highly-respected Yagorsha, and fell toshaking and cuffing her. The Boy started off full tilt to the rescue. Before he could reach them Joe had thrown her down on the ice. She halfgot up, but her enemy, advancing upon her again, dealt her a blow thatmade her howl and sent her flat once more. 

"Stop that! You hear? _Stop_ it!" the Boy called out. 

But Joe seemed not to hear. Anna had fallen face downward on the icethis time, and lay there as if stunned. Her enemy caught hold of her, pulled her up, and dragged her along in spite of her struggles andcries. 

"Let her alone!" the Boy shouted. He was nearly up to them now. ButJoe's attention was wholly occupied in hauling Anna back to thevillage, maltreating her at intervals by the way. Now the girl wasputting up one arm piteously to shield her bleeding face from hisfists. "Don't you hit her again, or it'll be the worse for you. " Butagain Joe's hand was lifted. The Boy plunged forward, caught the blowas it descended, and flung the arm aside, wrenched the girl free, andas Joe came on again, looking as if he meant business, the Boy planteda sounding lick on his jaw. The Pymeut staggered, and drew off a littleway, looking angry enough, but, to the Boy's surprise, showing nofight. 

It occurred to him that the girl, her lip bleeding, her parki torn, seemed more surprised than grateful; and when he said, "You come backwith me; he shan't touch you, " she did not show the pleased alacritythat you would expect. But she was no doubt still dazed. They all stoodlooking rather sheepish, and like actors "stuck" who cannot think ofthe next line, till Joe turned on the girl with some mumbled question. She answered angrily. He made another grab at her. She screamed, andgot behind the Boy. Very resolutely he widened his bold buck-skin legs, and dared Joe to touch the poor frightened creature cowering behind herprotector. Again silence. 

"What's the trouble between you two?"

They looked at each other, and then away. Joe turned unexpectedly, andshambled off in the direction of the village. Not a word out of Anna asshe returned by the side of her protector, but every now and then shelooked at him sideways. The Boy felt her inexpressive gratitude, andwas glad his journey had been delayed, or else, poor devil--

Joe had stopped to speak to--

"Who on earth's that white woman?"

"Nicholas' sister. "

"Not Muckluck?"

She nodded. 

"What's she dressed like that for?"

"Often like that in summer. Me, too--me got Holy Cross clo'es. "

Muckluck went slowly up towards the Kachime with Joe. When the othersgot to the water-hole, Anna turned and left the Boy without a word togo and recover her pail. The Boy stood a moment, looking for some signof the Colonel, and then went along the river bank to Ol' Chief's. No, the Colonel had gone back to the Kachime. 

The Boy came out again, and to his almost incredulous astonishment, there was Joe dragging the unfortunate Anna towards an ighloo. As helooked back, to steer straight for the entrance-hole, he caught sightof the Boy, dropped his prey, and disappeared with some precipitancyinto the ground. When Anna had gathered herself up, the Boy wasstanding in front of her. 

"You don't seem to be able to take very good care o' yourself. " Shepushed her tousled hair out of her eyes. "I don't wonder your ownpeople give it up if you have to be rescued every half-hour. What's thematter with you and Joe?" She kept looking down. "What have you done tomake him like this?" She looked up suddenly and laughed, and then hereyes fell. 

"Done nothin'. "

"Why should he want to kill you, then?"

"No _kill_" she said, smiling, a little rueful and embarrassed again, with her eyes on the ground. Then, as the Boy still stood therewaiting, "Joe, " she whispered, glancing over her shoulder--"Joe want mebe he squaw. "

The Boy fell back an astonished step. 

"Jee-rusalem! He's got a pretty way o' sayin' so. Why don't you tellyour father?"

"Tell--father?" It seemed never to have occurred to her. 

"Yes; can't Yagorsha protect you?"

She looked about doubtfully and then over her shoulder. 

"That Joe's ighloo, " she said. 

He pictured to himself the horror that must assail her blood at thesight. Yes, he was glad to have saved any woman from so dreadful afate. Did it happen often? and did nobody interfere? Muckluck wascoming down from the direction of the Kachime. The Boy went to meether, throwing over his shoulder, "You'd better stick to me, Anna, aslong as I'm here. I don't know, I'm sure, _what'll_ happen to you whenI'm gone. " Anna followed a few paces, and then sat down on the snow topull up and tie her disorganized leg-gear. 

Muckluck was standing still, looking at the Boy with none of thekindness a woman ought to show to one who had just befriended her sex. 

"Did you see that?"

She nodded. "See that any day. "

The Boy stopped, appalled at the thought of woman in a perpetual stateof siege. 

"Brute! hound!" he flung out towards Joe's ighloo. 

"No, " says Muckluck firmly; "Joe all right. "

"You say that, after what's happened this morning?" Muckluck declinedto take the verdict back. "Did you see him strike her?"

"No _hurt_. "

"Oh, didn't it? He threw her down, as hard as he could, on the ice. "

"She get up again. "

He despised Muckluck in that moment. 

"You weren't sorry to see another girl treated so?"

She smiled. 

"What if it had been you?"

"Oh, he not do that to _me_. "

"Why not? You can't tell. "

"Oh, yes. " She spoke with unruffled serenity. 

"It will very likely be you the next time. " The Boy took a brutalpleasure in presenting the hideous probability. 

"No, " she returned unmoved. "Joe savvy I no marry Pymeut. "

The Boy stared, mystified by the lack of sequence. "Poor Anna doesn'twant to marry _that_ Pymeut. "

Muckluck nodded. 

The Boy gave her up. Perversity was not confined to the civilized ofher sex. He walked on to find the Colonel. Muckluck followed, but theBoy wouldn't speak to her, wouldn't look at her. 

"You like my Holy Cross clo'es?" she inquired. "Me--I look like yourkind of girls now, huh?" No answer, but she kept up with him. "See?"She held up proudly a medallion, or coin of some sort, hung on a narrowstrip of raw-hide. 

He meant not to look at it at all, and he jerked his head away afterthe merest glance that showed him the ornament was tarnished silver, alittle bigger than an American dollar, and bore no device familiar tohis eyes. He quickened his pace, and walked on with face averted. TheColonel appeared just below the Kachime. 

"Well, aren't you _ever_ comin'?" he called out. 

"I've been ready this half-hour--hangin' about waitin' for you. Thatdevil Joe, " he went on, lowering his voice as he came up and speakinghurriedly, "has been trying to drag Yagorsha's girl into his ighloo. They've just had a fight out yonder on the ice. I got her away, but notbefore he'd thrown her down and given her a bloody face. We ought totell old Yagorsha, hey?"

Muckluck chuckled. The Boy turned on her angrily, and saw her staringback at Joe's ighloo. There, sauntering calmly past the abhorred trap, was the story-teller's daughter. Past it? No. She actually halted andbusied herself with her legging thong. 

"That girl must be an imbecile!" Or was it the apparition of herfather, up at the Kachime entrance, that inspired such temerity?

The Boy had gone a few paces towards her, and then turned. "Yagorsha!"he called up the slope. Yagorsha stood stock-still, although the Boywaved unmistakable danger-signals towards Joe's ighloo. Suddenly an armflashed out of the tunnel, caught Anna by the ankle, and in a twinklingshe lay sprawling on her back. Two hands shot out, seized her by theheels, and dragged the wretched girl into the brute's lair. It was allover in a flash. A moment's paralysis of astonishment, and theinvoluntary rush forward was arrested by Muckluck, who fastened herselfon to the rescuer's parki-tail and refused to be detached. "Yagorsha!"shouted the Boy. But it was only the Colonel who hastened towards themat the summons. The poor girl's own father stood calmly smoking, upthere, by the Kachime, one foot propped comfortably on the travellers'loaded sled. "Yagorsha!" he shouted again, and then, with a jerk tofree himself from Muckluck, the Boy turned sharply towards the ighloo, seeming in a bewildered way to be, himself, about to transact thispaternal business for the cowardly old loafer. But Muckluck clung tohis arm, laughing. 

"Yagorsha know. Joe give him nice mitts--sealskin--_new_ mitts. "

"Hear that, Colonel? For a pair of mitts he sells his daughter to thatruffian. "

Without definite plan, quite vaguely and instinctively, he shookhimself free from Muckluck, and rushed down to the scene of thetragedy. Muffled screams and yells issued with the smoke. Muckluckturned sharply to the Colonel, who was following, and said somethingthat sent him headlong after the Boy. He seized the doughty champion bythe feet just as he was disappearing in the tunnel, and hauled him out. 

"What in thunder--All right, you go first, then. _Quick_! as morescreams rent the still air. 

"Don't be a fool. You've been interruptin' the weddin' ceremonies. "

Muckluck had caught up with them, and Yagorsha was advancing leisurelyacross the snow. 

"She no want _you_, " whispered Muckluck to the Boy. "She _like_Joe--like him best of all. " Then, as the Boy gaped incredulously: "Shetell me heap long time ago she want Joe. "

"That's just part of the weddin' festivity, " says the Colonel, asrenewed shrieks issued from under the snow. "You've been an officiousinterferer, and I think the sooner I get you out o' Pymeut thehealthier it'll be for you. "

The Boy was too flabbergasted to reply, but he was far from convinced. The Colonel turned back to apologise to Yagorsha. 

"No like this in your country?" inquired Muckluck of the crestfallenchampion. 

"N-no--not exactly. "

"When you like girl--what you do?"

"Tell her so, " muttered the Boy mechanically. 

"Well--Joe been tellin' Anna--all winter. "

"And she hated him. "

"No. She like Joe--best of any. "

"What did she go on like that for, then?"

"Oh-h! She know Joe savvy. "

The Boy felt painfully small at his own lack of _savoir_, but no lessangry. 

"When you marry"--he turned to her incredulously--"will it be"--againthe shrieks--"like this?"

"I no marry Pymeut. "

Glancing riverwards, he saw the dirty imp, who had been so wildlyentertained by the encounter on the ice, still huddled on hisdrift-wood observatory, presenting as little surface to the cold aspossible, but grinning still with rapture at the spirited last act ofthe winter-long drama. As the Boy, with an exclamation of "Well, I giveit up, " walked slowly across the slope after the Colonel and Yagorsha, Muckluck lingered at his side. 

"In your country when girl marry--she no scream?"

"Well, no; not usually, I believe. "

"She go quiet? Like--like she _want_--" Muckluck stood still withastonishment and outraged modesty. 

"They agree, " he answered irritably. "They don't go on like wildbeasts. "

Muckluck pondered deeply this matter of supreme importance. 

"When you--get you squaw, you no _make_ her come?"

The Boy shook his head, and turned away to cut short these excursionsinto comparative ethnology. 

But Muckluck was athirst for the strange new knowledge. 

"What you do?"

He declined to betray his plan of action. 

"When you--all same Joe? Hey?"

Still no answer. 

"When you _know_--girl like you best--you no drag her home?"

"No. Be quiet. "

_"No?_ How you marry you self, then?"

The conversation would be still more embarrassing before the Colonel, so he stopped, and said shortly: "In our country nobody beats a womanbecause he likes her. "

"How she know, then?"

"They _agree_, I tell you. "

"Oh--an' girl--just come--when he call? Oh-h!" She dropped her jaw, andstared. "No fight a _little?"_ she gasped. "No scream quite _small?"_

_"No_, I tell you. " He ran on and joined the Colonel. Muckluck stoodseveral moments rooted in amazement. 

Yagorsha had called the rest of the Pymeuts out, for these queer guestsof theirs were evidently going at last. 

They all said "Goo'-bye" with great goodwill. Only Muckluck in herchilly "Holy Cross clo'es" stood sorrowful and silent, swinging hermedal slowly back and forth. 

Nicholas warned them that the Pymeut air-hole was not the only one. 

"No, " Yagorsha called down the slope; "better no play tricks with_him_. " He nodded towards the river as the travellers looked back. "Himno like. Him got heap plenty mouths--chew you up. " And all Pymeutchuckled, delighted at their story-teller's wit. 

Suddenly Muckluck broke away from the group, and ran briskly down tothe river trail. 

"I will pray for you--hard. " She caught hold of the Boy's hand, andshook it warmly. "Sister Winifred says the Good Father--"

"Fact is, Muckluck, " answered the Boy, disengaging himself withembarrassment, "my pardner here can hold up that end. Don't you thinkyou'd better square Yukon Inua? Don't b'lieve he likes me. "

And they left her, shivering in her "Holy Cross clo'es, " staring afterthem, and sadly swinging her medal on its walrus-string. 

"I don't mind sayin' I'm glad to leave Pymeut behind, " said theColonel. 

"Same here. "

"You're safe to get into a muss if you mix up with anything that has todo with women. That Muckluck o' yours is a minx. "

"She ain't my Muckluck, and I don't believe she's a minx, not a littlebit. "

Not wishing to be too hard on his pardner, the Colonel added:

"I lay it all to the chaparejos myself. " Then, observing his friend'smarked absence of hilarity, "You're very gay in your fine fringes. "

"Been a little too gay the last two or three hours. "

"Well, now, I'm glad to hear you say that. I think myself we've hadadventures enough right here at the start. "

"I b'lieve you. But there's something in that idea o' yours. Otherfellas have noticed the same tendency in chaparejos. "

"Well, if the worst comes to the worst, " drawled the Colonel, "we'llchange breeches. "

The suggestion roused no enthusiasm. 

"B'lieve I'd have a cammin' influence. Yes, sir, I reckon I could keepthose fringes out o' kinks. "

"Oh, I think they'll go straight enough after this"; and the Boy's goodspirits returned before they passed the summer village. 

It came on to snow again, about six o'clock, that second day out, andcontinued steadily all the night. What did it matter? They were used tosnow, and they were as jolly as clams at high-tide. 

The Colonel called a halt in the shelter of a frozen slough, betweentwo banks, sparsely timbered, but promising all the wood they needed, old as well as new. He made his camp fire on the snow, and the Boy soonhad the beef-tea ready--always the first course so long as Liebiglasted. 

Thereafter, while the bacon was frying and the tea brewing, the Colonelstuck up in the snow behind the fire some sticks on which to dry theirfoot-gear. When he pulled off his mucklucks his stockinged feet smokedin the frosty air. The hint was all that was needed, that first nighton the trail, for the Boy to follow suit and make the change into drythings. The smoky background was presently ornamented with Germansocks, and Arctic socks (a kind of felt slipper), and mucklucks, eachwith a stick run through them to the toe, all neatly planted in a row, like monstrous products of a snow-garden. With dry feet, burning facesand chilly backs, they hugged the fire, ate supper, laughed and talked, and said that life on the trail wasn't half bad. Afterwards they rolledthemselves in their blankets, and went to sleep on their spruce-boughspring mattresses spread near the fire on the snow. 

After about half an hour of oblivion the Boy started up with the drowsyimpression that a flying spark from the dying fire had set their stuffablaze. No. But surely the fire had been made up again--and--he rubbedthe sleep out of his incredulous eyes--yes, Muckluck was standingthere!

"What in thunder!" he began. "Wh-what is it?"

"It is me. "

"I can see that much. But what brings you here?"

Shivering with cold, she crouched close to the fire, dressed, as hecould see now, in her native clothes again, and it was her parki thathad scorched--was scorching still. 

"Me--I--" Smiling, she drew a stiff hand out of its mitten and held itover the reviving blaze, glancing towards the Colonel. He seemed to besleeping very sound, powdered over already with soft wet snow; but shewhispered her next remark. 

"I think I come help you find that Onge Grove. "

"I think you'll do nothing of the kind. " He also spoke with adeliberate lowering of the note. His great desire not to wake theColonel gave an unintentional softness to his tone. 

"You think winter bad time for squaws to travel?" She shook her head, and showed her beautiful teeth an instant in the faint light. Then, rising, half shy, but very firm, "I no wait till summer. "

He was so appalled for the moment, at the thought of having her ontheir hands, all this way from Pymeut, on a snowy night, that wordsfailed him. As she watched him she, too, grew grave. 

"You say me nice girl. "

"When did I say that?" He clutched his head in despair. 

"When you first come. When Shamán make Ol' Chief all well. "

"I don't remember it. "

"Yes. "

"I think you misunderstood me, Muckluck. "

"Heh?" Her countenance fell, but more puzzled than wounded. 

"That is--oh, yes--of course--you're a nice girl. "

"I think--Anna, too--you like me best. " She helped out the white man'sbashfulness. But as her interlocutor, appalled, laid no claim to thesentiment, she lifted the mittened hand to her eyes, and from under itscanned the white face through the lightly falling snow. The otherhand, still held out to the comfort of the smoke, was trembling alittle, perhaps not altogether with the cold. 

"The Colonel'll have to take over the breeches, " said the Boy, with theair of one wandering in his head. Then, desperately: "What _am_ I todo? What am I to _say?_"

"Say? You say you no like girl scream, no like her fight like Anna. Heh? So, me--I come like your girls--quite, quite good.... Heh?"

"You don't understand, Muckluck. I--you see, I could never find thatOrange Grove if you came along. "

"Why?"

"Well--a--no woman ever goes to help to find an Orange Grove. Th-there's a law against it. "

"Heh? Law?"

Alas! she knew too little to be impressed by the Majesty invoked. 

"You see, women, they--they come by-and-by--when the Orange Grove'sall--all ready for 'em. No man _ever_ takes a woman on that kind ofhunt. "

Her saddened face was very grave. The Boy took heart. 

"Now, the Pymeuts are going in a week or two, Nicholas said, to huntcaribou in the hills. "

"Yes. "

"But they won't take you to hunt caribou. No; they leave you at home. It's exactly the same with Orange Groves. No nice girl _ever_ goeshunting. "

Her lip trembled. 

"Me--I can fish. "

"Course you can. " His spirits were reviving. "You can doanything--except hunt. " As she lifted her head with an air of suddenprotest he quashed her. "From the beginning there's been a law againstthat. Squaws must stay at home and let the men do the huntin'. "

"Me ... I can cook"--she was crying now--"while you hunt. Good supperall ready when you come home. "

He shook his head solemnly. 

"Perhaps you don't know"--she flashed a moment's hope through hertears--"me learn sew up at Holy Cross. Sew up your socks for you whenthey open their mouths. " But she could see that not even this grand newaccomplishment availed. 

"Can help pull sled, " she suggested, looking round a little wildly asif instantly to illustrate. "Never tired, " she added, sobbing, andputting her hands up to her face. 

"Sh! sh! Don't wake the Colonel. " He got up hastily and stood besideher at the smouldering fire. He patted her on the shoulder. "Of courseyou're a nice girl. The nicest girl in the Yukon"--he caught himself upas she dropped her hands from her face--"that is, you will be, if yougo home quietly. "

Again she hid her eyes. 

Go home? How could he send her home all that way at this time of night?It was a bothering business!

Again her hands fell from the wet unhappy face. She shivered a littlewhen she met his frowning looks, and turned away. He stooped and pickedup her mitten. Why, you couldn't turn a dog away on a night like this--

Plague take the Pymeuts, root and branch! She had shuffled her feetinto her snow-shoe straps, and moved off in the dimness. But for thesound of sobbing, he could not have told just where, in thesoftly-falling snow, Muckluck's figure was fading into the dusk. Hehurried after her, conscience-stricken, but most unwilling. 

"Look here, " he said, when he had caught up with her, "I'm sorry youcame all this way in the cold--very sorry. " Her sobs burst out afresh, and louder now, away from the Colonel's restraining presence. "But, seehere: I can't send you off like this. You might die on the trail. "

"Yes, I think me die, " she agreed. 

"No, don't do that. Come back, and we'll tell the Colonel you're goingto stay by the fire till morning, and then go home. "

She walked steadily on. "No, I go now. "

"But you can't, Muckluck. You can't find the trail. "

"I tell you before, I not like your girls. I can go in winter as goodas summer. I _can_ hunt!" She turned on him fiercely. "Once I hunt aowel. Ketch him, too!" She sniffed back her tears. "I can do allkinds. "

"No, you can't hunt Orange Groves, " he said, with a severity that mightseem excessive. "But I can't let you go off in this snowstorm--"

"He soon stop. Goo'-bye. "

Never word of sweeter import in his ears than that. But he was far fromsatisfied with his conduct all the same. It was quite possible that thePymeuts, discovering her absence, would think he had lured her away, and there might be complications. So it was with small fervour that hesaid: "Muckluck, I wish you'd come back and wait till morning. "

"No, I go now. " She was in the act of darting forward on thosesnow-shoes, that she used so skillfully, when some sudden thought criedhalt. She even stopped crying. "I no like go near blow-hole by night. Ikeep to trail--"

"But how the devil do you do it?"

She paid no heed to the interruption, seeming busy in taking somethingover her head from round her neck. 

"To-morrow, " she said, lowering her tear-harshened voice, "you findblow-hole. You give this to Yukon Inua--say I send it. He will not hateyou any more. " She burst into a fresh flood of tears. In a moment thedim sight of her, the faint trail of crying left in her wake, had sowholly vanished that, but for the bit of string, as it seemed to be, left in his half-frozen hands, he could almost have convinced himselfhe had dreamt the unwelcome visit. 

The half-shut eye of the camp fire gleamed cheerfully, as he ran back, and crouched down where poor little Muckluck had knelt, so sure of awelcome. Muckluck, cogitated the Boy, will believe more firmly thanever that, if a man doesn't beat a girl, he doesn't mean business. Whatwas it he had wound round one hand? What was it dangling in the acridsmoke? _That_, then--her trinket, the crowning ornament of her HolyCross holiday attire, that was what she was offering the old ogre ofthe Yukon--for his unworthy sake. He stirred up the dying fire to seeit better. A woman's face--some Catholic saint? He held the medal lowerto catch the fitful blaze. "_D. G. Autocratrix Russorum_. " The GreatKatharine! Only a little crown on her high-rolled hair, and hersplendid chest all uncovered to the Arctic cold. 

Her Yukon subjects must have wondered that she wore no parki--this ladywho had claimed sole right to all the finest sables found in her newAmerican dominions. On the other side of the medal, Minerva, with aGorgon-furnished shield and a beautiful bone-tipped harpoon, as itlooked, with a throwing-stick and all complete. But she, too, wouldstrike the Yukon eye as lamentably chilly about the legs. How had theseladies out of Russia and Olympus come to lodge in Ol' Chief's ighloo?Had Glovotsky won this guerdon at Great Katharine's hands? Had hebrought it on that last long journey of his to Russian America, andleft it to his Pymeut children with his bones? Well, Yukon Inua shouldnot have it yet. The Boy thrust the medal into a pocket of hischaparejos, and crawled into his snow-covered bed. 

CHAPTER XI

HOLY CROSS

"Raise the stone, and ye shall find me; cleave the wood, and there amI. "

The stars were shining frostily, in a clear sky, when the Boy crawledout from under his snow-drift in the morning. He built up the fire, quaking in the bitter air, and bustled the breakfast. 

"You seem to be in something of a hurry, " said the Colonel, with a yawnstifled in a shiver. 

"We haven't come on this trip to lie abed in the morning, " his pardnerreturned with some solemnity. "I don't care how soon I begin caperin'ahead with that load again. "

"Well, it'll be warmin', anyway, " returned the Colonel, "and I can'tsay as much for your fire. "

It was luck that the first forty miles of the trail had already beentraversed by the Boy. He kept recognising this and that in thelandscape, with an effect of good cheer on both of them. It postponed alittle the realization of their daring in launching themselves upon theArctic waste, without a guide or even a map that was of the smallestuse. 

Half an hour after setting off, they struck into the portage. Even witha snow-blurred trail, the Boy's vivid remembrance of the other journeygave them the sustaining sense that they were going right. The Colonelwas working off the surprising stiffness with which he had wakened, andthey were both warm now; but the Colonel's footsoreness wasconsiderable, an affliction, besides, bound to be worse before it wasbetter. 

The Boy spoke with the old-timer's superiority, of his own experience, and was so puffed up, at the bare thought of having hardened his feet, that he concealed without a qualm the fact of a brand-new blister onhis heel. A mere nothing that, not worth mentioning to anyone whoremembered the state he was in at the end of that awful journey ofpenitence. 

It was well on in the afternoon before it began to snow again, and theyhad reached the frozen lake. The days were lengthening, and they stillhad good light by which to find the well-beaten trail on the otherside. 

"Now in a minute we'll hear the mission dogs. What did I tell you?" Outof the little wood, a couple of teams were coming, at a good roundpace. They were pulled up at the waterhole, and the mission natives ranon to meet the new arrivals. They recognised the Boy, and insisted onmaking the Colonel, who was walking very lame, ride to the mission inthe strongest sled, and they took turns helping the dogs by pushingfrom behind. The snow was falling heavily again, and one of theIndians, Henry, looking up with squinted eyes, said, "There'll benothing left of that walrus-tusk. "

"Hey?" inquired the Boy, straining at his sled-rope and bending beforethe blast. "What's that?"

"Don't you know what makes snow?" said Henry. 

"No. What does?"

"Ivory whittlings. When they get to their carving up yonder then wehave snow. "

What was happening to the Colonel?

The mere physical comfort of riding, instead of serving as packhorse, great as it was, not even that could so instantly spirit away theweariness, and light up the curious, solemn radiance that shone on theColonel's face. It struck the Boy that good old Kentucky would looklike that when he met his dearest at the Gate of Heaven--if there wassuch a place. 

The Colonel was aware of the sidelong wonder of his comrade's glance, for the sleds, abreast, had come to a momentary halt. But still hestared in front of him, just as a sailor in a storm dares not look awayfrom the beacon-light an instant, knowing all the waste about himabounds in rocks and eddies and in death, and all the world of hope andsafe returning is narrowed to that little point of light. 

After the moment's speculation the Boy turned his eyes to follow theColonel's gaze into space. 

"The Cross! the Cross!" said the man on the sled. "Don't you see it?"

"Oh, that? Yes. "

At the Boy's tone the Colonel, for the first time, turned his eyes awayfrom the Great White Symbol. 

"Don't know what you're made of, if, seeing that... You needn't be aChurch member, but only a man, I should think, to--to--" He blew outhis breath in impotent clouds, and then went on. "We Americans think agood deal o' the Stars and Stripes, but that up yonder--that's themightier symbol. "

"Huh!" says the Boy. "Stars and Stripes tell of an ideal of unitedstates. That up there tells of an ideal of United Mankind. It's thegreat Brotherhood Mark. There isn't any other standard that men wouldfollow just to build a hospice in a place like this. "

At an upper window, in a building on the far side of the white symbol, the travellers caught a glimpse, through the slanting snow, of one ofthe Sisters of St. Ann shutting in the bright light with thickcurtains. 

_"Glass!"_ ejaculated the Colonel. 

One of the Indians had run on to announce them, and as they drew up atthe door--that the Boy remembered as a frame for Brother Paul, with hislamp, to search out iniquity, and his face of denunciation--out cameFather Brachet, brisk, almost running, his two hands outstretched, hisface a network of welcoming wrinkles. No long waiting, this time, inthe reception-room. Straight upstairs to hot baths and mild, revivingdrinks, and then, refreshed and already rested, down to supper. 

With a shade of anxiety the Boy looked about for Brother Paul. ButFather Wills was here anyhow, and the Boy greeted him, joyfully, as atried friend and a man to be depended on. There was Brother Etienne, and there were two strange faces. 

Father Brachet put the Colonel on his right and the Boy on his left, introducing: "Fazzer Richmond, my predecessor as ze head of all zeAlaskan missions, " calmly eliminating Greek, Episcopalian, and otherheretic establishments. "Fazzer Richmond you must have heard much of. He is ze great ausority up here. He is now ze Travelling Priest. Youcan ask him all. He knows everysing. "

In no wise abashed by this flourish, Father Richmond shook hands withthe Big Chimney men, smiling, and with a pleasant ease thatcommunicated itself to the entire company. 

It was instantly manifest that the scene of this Jesuit's labours hadnot been chiefly, or long, beyond the borders of civilization. In theplain bare room where, for all its hospitality and good cheer, reignedan air of rude simplicity and austerity of life--into this somewhatrarefied atmosphere Father Richmond brought a whiff from another world. As he greeted the two strangers, and said simply that he had justarrived, himself, by way of the Anvik portage, the Colonel felt that hemust have meant from New York or from Paris instead of the words headded, "from St. Michael's. "

He claimed instant kinship with the Colonel on the strength of theirboth being Southerners. 

"I'm a Baltimore man, " he said, with an accent no Marylander can purgeof pride. 

"How long since you've been home?"

"Oh, I go back every year. "

"He goes all over ze world, to tell ze people--"

"--something of the work being done here by Father Brachet--and all ofthem. " He included the other priests and lay-brothers in a slightcircular movement of the grizzled head. 

And to collect funds! the Colonel rightly divined, little guessing howtriumphantly he achieved that end. 

"Alaska is so remote, " said the Travelling Priest, as if in apology forpopular ignorance, "and people think of it so... Inadequately, shall wesay? In trying to explain the conditions up here, I have my chiefdifficulty in making them realise the great distances we have to cover. You tell them that in the Indian tongue Alaska means "the greatcountry, " they smile, and think condescendingly of savage imagery. Itis vain to say we have an area of six hundred thousand square miles. Wetalk much in these days of education; but few men and no women cancount! Our Eastern friends get some idea of what we mean, when we tellthem Alaska is bigger than all the Atlantic States from Maine toLouisiana with half of great Texas thrown in. With a coast-line oftwenty six thousand miles, this Alaska of ours turns to the sea agreater frontage than all the shores of all the United States combined. It extends so far out towards Asia that it carries the dominions of theGreat Republic as far west of San Francisco as New York is east of it, making California a central state. I try to give Europeans some idea ofit by saying that if you add England, Ireland, and Scotland together, and to that add France, and to that add Italy, you still lack enough tomake a country the size of Alaska. I do not speak of our mountains, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen thousand feet high, and our Yukon, flowing for more than two thousand miles through a country almostvirgin still. "

"You travel about up here a good deal?"

"He travels _all_ ze time. He will not rest, " said Father Brachet asone airing an ancient grievance. 

"Yes, I will rest now--a little. I have been eight hundred miles overthe ice, with dogs, since January 1. "

The Boy looked at him with something very like reverence. Here was aman who could give you tips!

"You have travelled abroad, too, " the Colonel rather stated than asked. 

"I spent a good deal of my youth in France and Germany. "

"Educated over there?"

"Well, I am a Johns Hopkins man, but I may say I found my education inRome. Speaking of education"--he turned to the other priests--"I havegreatly advanced my grammar since we parted. " Father Brachet answeredwith animation in French, and the conversation went forward for someminutes in that tongue. The discussion was interrupted to introduce theother new face, at the bottom of the table, to the Big Chimney men:"Resident Fazzer Roget of ze Kuskoquim mission. "

"That is the best man on snow-shoes in Central Alaska, " said FatherRichmond low to the Colonel, nodding at the Kuskoquim priest. 

"And he knows more of two of ze native dialects here zan anyone else, "added the Father Superior. 

"You must forgive our speaking much of the Indian tongues, " said FatherRichmond. "We are all making dictionaries and grammars; we have stillto translate much of our religious instruction, and the great varietyin dialect of the scattered tribes keeps us busy with linguisticstudies. "

"Tomorrow you must see our schools, " said Father Brachet. 

But the Boy answered quickly that they could not afford the time. Hewas surprised at the Colonel's silence; but the Boy didn't know whatthe Colonel's feet felt like. 

Kentucky ain't sorry, he said to himself, to have a back to his chair, and to eat off china again. Kentucky's a voluptuary! I'll have to draghim away by main force; and the Boy allowed Father Richmond to help himyet more abundantly to the potatoes and cabbage grown last summer inthe mission garden!

It was especially the vegetables that lent an element of luxury to thesimple meal. The warm room, the excellent food, better cooked than anythey had had for seven months, produced a gentle somnolence. Thethought of the inviting look of the white-covered bed upstairs lay likea balm on the spirits of men not born to roughing it. As the travellerssaid an early and grateful good-night, the Boy added sleepily somethingabout the start at dawn. 

Father Brachet answered, "Morning will bring counsel, my son. I sink zebleezzar-r will not let us lose you so soon. "

They overslept themselves, and they knew it, in that way the would-beearly riser does, before ever he looks into the accusing face of hiswatch. The Boy leapt out of bed. 

"Hear that?" The wind was booming among the settlement buildings. "Sounds as if there was weather outside. " A glance between the curtainsshowed the great gale at its height. The snow blew level in sheets anddarkened the air. 

"Well, " said the Colonel, splashing mightily in the ice-cold water, "Idon't know as I mind giving my feet twenty-four hours' time to come totheir senses. "

A hurried toilet and they went downstairs, sharp-set for breakfastafter the long, refreshing sleep. 

Father Richmond was writing on his knee by the stove in thereception-room. 

"Good-morning--good-morning. " He rang the bell. 

"Well, what did we tell you? I don't think you'll get far today. Letthese gentlemen know when breakfast is ready, " he said, as Christopherput his head in. He looked at his watch. "I hope you will findeverything you need, " he said; and, continuing to talk about the galeand some damage it had done to one of the outbuildings, he went intothe entry, just beyond the reception-room door, and began to put on hisfurs. 

"_You are_ not going out in such weather!" the Colonel called after himincredulously. 

"Only as far as the church. "

"Oh, is there church today?" inquired the Boy more cheerfully than onemight expect. 

The Colonel started and made a signal for discretion. 

"Blest if it isn't Sunday!" he said under his breath. 

"He doesn't seem dead-set on our observing it, " whispered the Boy. 

The Colonel warmed himself luxuriously at the stove, and seemed tolisten for that summons from the entry that never came. Was FatherRichmond out there still, or had he gone?

"Do they think we are heathens because we are not Jesuits?" he saidunder his breath, suddenly throwing out his great chest. 

"Perhaps we ought to... Hey? They've been awfully considerate of_us--_"

The Colonel went to the door. Father Richmond was struggling with hissnow-boots. 

"With your permission, sir, " says the Colonel in his most magnificentmanner, "we will accompany you, or follow if you are in haste. "

"With all my heart. Come, " said the priest, "if you will wait andbreakfast with us after Mass. "

It was agreed, and the immediate order was countermanded. The sound ofa bell came, muffled, through the storm. 

With thoughts turning reluctantly from breakfast, "What's that?" askedthe Boy. 

"That is our church bell. " The Father had helped the Colonel to findhis parki. 

"Oh--a--of course--"

"A fine tone, don't you think? But you can't tell so well in thisstorm. We are fond of our bell. It is the first that ever rang out inthe Yukon valley. Listen!"

They stood still a moment before opening the front door. The Boy, seeing the very look of a certain high-shouldered gray stone "St. Andrew's" far away, and himself trotting along beside that figure, inseparable from first memories, was dimly aware again, as he stood atthe Jesuit's door, in these different days, of the old Sunday feelinginvading, permeating his consciousness, half reluctant, half amused. 

The Colonel sat in a rural church and looked at the averted face of awoman. 

Only to the priest was the sound all music. 

"That language, " he said, "speaks to men whatever tongue they calltheir own. The natives hear it for miles up the river, and down theriver, and over the white hills, and far across the tundra. They comemany miles to Mass--"

He opened the door, and the gale rushed in. 

"I do not mean on days like this, " he wound up, smiling, and out theywent into the whirling snow. 

The church was a building of logs like the others, except that it wasof one story. Father Brachet was already there, with Father Wills andBrother Etienne; and, after a moment, in came Brother Paul, lookingmore waxen and aloof than ever, at the head of the school, the rearbrought up by Brother Vincent and Henry. 

In a moment the little Mother Superior appeared, followed by two nuns, heading a procession of native women and girls. They took their placeson the other side of the church and bowed their heads. 

"Beautiful creature!" ejaculated the Colonel under his breath, glancingback. 

His companion turned his head sharply just in time to see SisterWinifred come last into the church, holding by either hand a littlechild. Both men watched her as she knelt down. Between the children'ssallow, screwed-up, squinting little visages the calm, unconscious faceof the nun shone white like a flower. 

The strangers glanced discreetly about the rude little church, with itspictures and its modest attempt at stained glass. 

"No wonder all this impresses the ignorant native, " whispered theColonel, catching himself up suddenly from sharing in that weakness. 

Without, the wild March storm swept the white world; within anotherclimate reigned--something of summer and the far-off South, of Italyherself, transplanted to this little island of civilisation anchored inthe Northern waste. 

"S'pose you've seen all the big cathedrals, eh?"

"Good many. "

There was still a subdued rustling in the church, and outside, stillthe clanging bell contended with the storm. 

"And this--makes you smile?"

"N--no, " returned the older man with a kind of reluctance. "I've seenmany a worse church; America's full of 'em. "

"Hey?"

"So far as--dignity goes--" The Colonel was wrestling with some vagueimpression difficult for him to formulate. "You see, you can't buildanything with wood that's better than a log-cabin. For looks--just_looks_--it beats all your fancy gimcracks, even brick; beatseverything else hollow, except stone. Then they've got candles. We wenton last night about the luxury of oil-lamps. They don't bring 'em inhere!"

"_We_ do in our prairie and Southern country churches. "

"I know. But look at those altar lights. " The Boy was too busy lookingat Sister Winifred. "I tell you, sir, a man never made a finer thingthan a tall wax candle. "

"Sh! Mustn't talk in church. "

The Colonel stared a moment at the Boy's presumption, drew himself up alittle pompously, and crossed his arms over his huge chest. 

"Why, they've got an organ!" The Boy forgot his strict views on churchetiquette as the sudden sweetness swelled in the air. Brother Paul, with head thrown back and white face lifted, was playing, slowly, absently, like one who listens to some great choir invisible, and keepstheir time with a few obedient but unnecessary chords. And yet--

"The fella can play, " the Colonel admitted. 

The native choir, composed entirely of little dark-faced boys, sangtheir way truly through the service, Father Brachet celebrating Mass. 

"Brother Paul's ill, isn't he? Look!" The lay-brother had swayed, anddrooped forward over the keyboard, but his choir sang steadily on. Herecovered himself, and beckoned one of the boys to his side. When herose, the child nodded and took the organist's place, playing quitecreditably to the end. Brother Paul sat in the corner with bowed head. 

Coming out, they were in time to confront Sister Winifred, holding backthe youngest children, eager to anticipate their proper places in theprocession. 

The Boy looked fixedly at her, wondering. Suddenly meeting The cleareyes, he smiled, and then shrank inwardly at his forwardness. He couldnot tell if she remembered him. 

The Colonel, finding himself next her at the door, bowed, and stoodback for her to pass. 

"No, " she said gently; "my little children must wait for the olderones. "

"You have them under good discipline, madam. " He laid his hand on thefurry shoulder of the smallest. 

The Boy stood behind the Colonel, unaccountably shy in the presence ofthe only white woman he had seen in nearly seven months. She couldn'tbe any older than he, and yet she was a nun. What a gulf opened at theword! Sister Winifred and her charges fell into rank at the tail of thelittle procession, and vanished in the falling snow. At breakfast theColonel would not sit down till he was presented to Brother Paul. 

"Sir, " he said in his florid but entirely sincere fashion, "I shouldlike to thank you for the pleasure of hearing that music to-day. Wewere much impressed, sir, by the singing. How old is the boy who playedthe organ?"

"Ten, " said Brother Paul, and for the first time the Boy saw him smile. "Yes, I think he has music in him, our little Jerome. "

"And how well _all_ your choir has the service by heart! Their unisonis perfect. "

"Yes, " said Father Brachet from the head of the table, "our music hasnever been so good as since Paul came among us. " He lifted his hand, and every one bowed his head. 

After grace Father Richmond took the floor, conversationally, as seemedto be his wont, and breakfast went on, as supper had the night before, to the accompaniment of his shrewd observations and lively anecdotes. In the midst of all the laughter and good cheer Brother Paul sat at theend of the board, eating absently, saying nothing, and no one speakingto him. 

Father Richmond especially, but, indeed, all of them, seemed arrantworldlings beside the youngest of the lay-brethren. The Colonel couldmore easily imagine Father Richmond walking the streets of Paris or ofRome, than "hitting the Yukon trail. " He marvelled afresh at thedevotion that brought such a man to wear out his fine attainments, hisscholarship, his energy, his wide and Catholic knowledge, in travellingwinter after winter, hundreds of miles over the ice from one Indianvillage to another. You could not divorce Father Richmond in your mindfrom the larger world outside; he spoke with its accent, he looked withhis humourous, experienced eyes. You found it natural to think of himin very human relations. You wondered about his people, and whatbrought him to this. 

Not so with Brother Paul. He was one of those who suggest no countryupon any printed map. You have to be reminded that you do not know hisbirthplace or his history. It was this same Brother Paul who, afterbreakfast and despite the Pymeut incident, offered to show thegold-seekers over the school. The big recitation-room was full ofnatives and decidedly stuffy. They did not stay long. Upstairs, "Isleep here in the dormitory, " said the Brother, "and I live with thepupils--as much as I can. I often eat with them, " he added as one whomounts a climax. "They have to be taught _everything_, and they have tobe taught it over again every day. "

"Except music, apparently. "

"Except music--and games. Brother Vincent teaches them football andbaseball, and plays with them and works with them. Part of each day isdevoted to manual training and to sport. "

He led the way to the workshop. 

"One of our brothers is a carpenter and master mechanic. "

He called to a pupil passing the door, and told him the strangers wouldlike to inspect the school work. Very proudly the lad obeyed. Hehimself was a carpenter, and showed his half-finished table. The Boy'seye fell on a sled. 

"Yes, " said the lad, "that kind better. Your kind no good. " He hadevidently made intimate acquaintance with the Boy's masterpiece. 

"Yours is splendid, " admitted the unskilled workman. 

"Will you sell it?" the Colonel asked Brother Paul. 

"They make them to sell, " was the answer, and the transaction was sooneffected. 

 * * * * *

"It has stopped snowing and ze wind is fallen, " said Father Brachet, going to the reception-room window an hour or so after they had come infrom dinner. 

The Colonel exchanged looks with the Boy, and drew out his watch. 

"Later than I thought. "

"Much, " the Colonel agreed, and sat considering, watch in hand. 

"I sink our friends must see now ze girls' school, and ze laundry, hein?"

"To be sure, " agreed Father Richmond. "I will take you over and giveyou into the hands of our Mother Superior. "

"Why, it's much warmer, " said the Boy as they went by the cross; andFather Richmond greeted the half-dozen native boys, who were packingdown the fresh snow under their broad shoes, laughing and shouting toone another as they made anew the familiar mission trails. 

The door of the two-story house, on the opposite side of thesettlement, was opened by Sister Winifred. 

"Friends of ours from the White Camp below. "

She acknowledged the nameless introduction, smiling; but at the requestthat followed, "Ah, it is too bad that just to-day--the MotherSuperior--she is too faint and weak to go about. Will you see her, Father?"

"Yes, if you will show these strangers the school and laundry and--"

"Oh, yes, I will show them. "

She led the way into the cheerful schoolroom, where big girls andlittle girls were sitting about, amusing themselves in the quiet of along Sunday afternoon. Several of the younger children ran to her asshe came in, and stood holding fast to the folds of her black habit, staring up at the strangers, while she explained the kind ofinstruction given, the system, and the order reigning in eachdepartment. Finally, she persuaded a little girl, only six years old, to take her dusky face out of the long flowing veil of the nun, andshow how quickly she could read a sentence that Sister Winifred wroteon the blackboard. Then others were called on, and gave examples oftheir accomplishments in easy arithmetic and spelling. The childrenmust have been very much bored with themselves that stormy Sunday, forthey entered into the examination with a quite unnatural zest. 

Two of the elder girls recited, and some specimens of penmanship andcomposition were shown. The delicate complexion of the little nunflushed to a pretty wild-rose pink as these pupils of hers won theColonel's old fashioned compliments. 

"And they are taught most particularly of all, " she hastened to say, "cooking, housekeeping, and sewing. "

Whereupon specimens of needlework were brought out and cast like pearlsbefore the swine's eyes of the ignorant men. But they were impressed intheir benighted way, and said so. 

"And we teach them laundry-work. " She led the way, with the childrentrooping after, to the washhouse. "No, run back. You'll take cold. Runback, and you shall sing for the strangers before they go. "

She smiled them away--a happy-faced, clean little throng, strikingcontrast to the neglected, filthy children seen in the native villages. As they were going into the laundry, Father Richmond came out of thehouse, and stopped to point out to the Colonel a snow-coveredenclosure--"the Sisters' garden"--and he told how marvellously, in thebrief summer, some of the hardier vegetables flourished there. 

"They spring up like magic at the edge of the snow-drifts, and they donot rest from their growing all night. If the time is short, they havetwice as much sunlight as with you. They drink it in the whole summernight as well as all the day. And over here is the Fathers' garden. "Talking still, he led the way towards a larger enclosure on the otherside of the Cross. 

Sister Winifred paused a moment, and then, as they did not turn back, and the Boy stood waiting, she took him into the drying-room and intothe ironing-room, and then returned to the betubbed apartment firstinvaded. There was only one blot on the fairness of that modellaundry--a heap of torn and dirty canvas in the middle of the floor. 

The Boy vaguely thought it looked familiar, before the Sister, blushingfaintly, said: "We hope you won't go before we have time to repair it. "

"Why, it's our old sled-cover!"

"Yes; it is very much cut and torn. But you do not go at once?"

"Yes, to-morrow. "

"Oh! Father Brachet thought you would stay for a few days, at least. "

"We have no time. "

"You go, like the rest, for gold?"

"Like the rest. "

"But you came before to help poor Nicholas out of his trouble. "

"He was quite able to help himself, as it turned out. "

"Why will you go so far, and at such risk?" she said, with a suddennessthat startled them both. 

"I--I--well, I think I go chiefly because I want to get my home back. Ilost my home when I was a little chap. Where is your home?"

"Here. "

"How long have you been here?"

"Nearly two years. "

"Then how can you call it home?"

"I do that only that I may--speak your language. Of course, it is notmy real home. "

"Where is the real home?"

"I hope it is in heaven, " she said, with a simplicity that took awayall taint of cant or mere phrase-making. 

"But where do you come from?"

"I come from Montreal. "

"Oh! and don't you ever go back to visit your people?"

"No, I never go back. "

"But you will some time?"

"No; I shall never go back. "

"Don't you _want_ to?"

She dropped her eyes, but very steadfastly she said:

"My work is here. "

"But you are young, and you may live a great, great many years. "

She nodded, and looked out of the open door. The Colonel and theTravelling Priest were walking in Indian file the new-made, hard-packedpath. 

"Yes, " she said in a level voice, "I shall grow old here, and here Ishall be buried. "

"I shall never understand it. I have such a longing for my home. I camehere ready to bear anything that I might be able to get it back. "

She looked at him steadily and gravely. 

"I may be wrong, but I doubt if you would be satisfied even if you gotit back--now. "

"What makes you think that?" he said sharply. 

"Because"--and she checked herself as if on the verge of something toopersonal--"you can never get back a thing you've lost. When the oldthing is there again, you are not as you were when you lost it, and thechange in you makes the old thing new--and strange. "

"Oh, it's plain I am very different from you, " but he said it with akind of uneasy defiance. "Besides, in any case, I shall do it for mysister's sake. "

"Oh, you have a sister?"

He nodded. 

"How long since you left her?"

"It's a good while now. "

"Perhaps your sister won't want that particular home any more than youwhen you two meet again. " Then, seeming not to notice the shade on hercompanion's face: "I promised my children they should sing for you. Doyou mind? Will your friend come in, too?" And, looking from the doorafter the Colonel and the Father as they turned to rejoin them: "He isodd, that big friend of yours, " she said--quite like a human being, asthe Boy thought instantly. 

"He's not odd, I assure you. "

"He called me 'madam. '" She spoke with a charming piqued childishness. 

"You see, he didn't know your name. What is your name?"

"Sister Winifred. "

"But your real name?" he said, with the American's insistence on hisown point of view. 

"That is my only name, " she answered with dignity, and led the way backinto the schoolroom. Another, older, nun was there, and when the othersrejoined them they made the girls sing. 

"Now we have shown you enough, " said Father Richmond, rising; "boastedto you enough of the very little we are able to accomplish here. Wemust save something for to-morrow. "

"Ah, to-morrow we take to the trail again, " said the Colonel, and addedhis "Good-bye, madam. "

Sister Winifred, seeing he expected it, gave him her hand. 

"Good-bye, and thank you for coming. "

"For your poor, " he said shyly, as he turned away and left a gift inher palm. 

"Thank you for showing us all this, " the Boy said, lingering, but notdaring to shake hands. "It--it seems very wonderful. I had no idea amission meant all this. "

"Oh, it means more--more than anything you can _see_. "

"Good-bye. "

"Good-bye. "

In the early evening the reception-room was invaded by the lads' schoolfor their usual Sunday night entertainment. Very proudly these boys andyoung men sang their glees and choruses, played the fiddle, recited, even danced. 

"Pity Mac isn't here!"

"Awful pity. Sunday, too. "

Brother Etienne sang some French military songs, and it came out thathe had served in the French army. Father Roget sang, also in French, explaining himself with a humourous skill in pantomime that set theroom in a roar. 

"Well, " said the Colonel when he stood up to say good-night, "I haven'tenjoyed an evening so much for years. "

"It is very early still, " said Father Brachet, wrinkling up his face ina smile. 

"Ah, but we have to make such an early start. "

The Colonel went up to bed, leaving the Boy to go to Father Richmond'sroom to look at his Grammar of the Indian language. 

The instant the door was shut, the priest set down the lamp, and laidhis hands on the young man's shoulders. 

"My son, you must not go on this mad journey. "

"I must, you know. "

"You must _not_. Sit there. " He pushed him into a chair. "Let me tellyou. I do not speak as the ignorant. I have in my day travelled manyhundreds of miles on the ice; but I've done it in the season when thetrail's at its best, with dogs, my son, and with tried nativeservants. "

"I know it is pleasanter that way, but--"

"Pleasanter? It is the way to keep alive. "

"But the Indians travel with hand-sleds. "

"For short distances, yes, and they are inured to the climate. You? Youknow nothing of what lies before you. "

"But we'll find out as other people have. " The Boy smiled confidently. 

"I assure you, my son, it is madness, this thing you are trying to do. The chances of either of you coming out alive, are one in fifty. Infifty, did I say? In five hundred. "

"I don't think so, Father. We don't mean to travel when--"

"But you'll have to travel. To stay in such places as you'll findyourself in will be to starve. Or if by any miracle you escape theworst effects of cold and hunger, you'll get caught in the ice in thespring break-up, and go down to destruction on a floe. You've noconception what it's like. If you were six weeks earlier, or six weekslater, I would hold my peace. "

The Boy looked at the priest and then away. _Was_ it going to be sobad? Would they leave their bones on the ice? Would they go washing bythe mission in the great spring flood, that all men spoke of with thesame grave look? He had a sudden vision of the torrent as it would bein June. Among the whirling ice-masses that swept by--two bodies, swollen, unrecognisable. One gigantic, one dressed gaily in chaparejos. And neither would lift his head, but, like men bent grimly upon somegreat errand, they would hurry on, past the tall white cross with nevera sign--on, on to the sea. 

"Be persuaded, my son. "

Dimly the Boy knew he was even now borne along upon a current equallyirresistible, this one setting northward, as that other back to thesouth. He found himself shaking his head under the Jesuit's remonstranteyes. 

"We've lost so much time already. We couldn't possibly turn back--now. "

"Then here's my Grammar. " With an almost comic change of tone andmanner the priest turned to the table where the lamp stood, among pilesof neatly tied-up and docketed papers. 

He undid one of the packets, with an ear on the sudden sounds outsidein the passage. 

"Brother Paul's got it in the schoolhouse. "

Brother Paul! He hadn't been at the entertainment, and no one seemed tohave missed him. 

"How did Sister Winifred know?" asked another voice. 

"Old Maria told her. "

Father Richmond got up and opened the door. 

"What is it?"

"It's a new-born Indian baby. " The Father looked down as if it might beon the threshold. "Brother Paul found it below at the village all doneup ready to be abandoned. "

"Tell Sister Winifred I'll see about it in the morning. "

"She says--pardon me, Father--she says that is like a man. If I do notbring the little Indian in twenty minutes she will come herself and getit. "

Father Richmond laughed. 

"Good-night, my son"; and he went downstairs with the others. 

 * * * * *

"Colonel, you asleep?" the Boy asked softly. 

"No. "

He struggled in silence with his mucklucks. Presently, "Isn't itfrightfully strange, " he mused aloud. "Doesn't it pull a fella up bythe roots, somehow, to see Americans on this old track?"

The Colonel had the bedclothes drawn up to his eyes. Under the whitequilt he made some undistinguishable sound, but he kept his eyesfastened on his pardner. 

"Everything that we Americans have done, everything that we are, isachieved by the grace of goin' bang the other way. " The Boy pulled offa muckluck and threw it half across the room. "And yet, and yet--"

He sat with one stocking-foot in his hand and stared at the candle. 

"I wonder, Colonel, if it _satisfies_ anybody to be a hustler and amillionaire. "

"Satisfies?" echoed the Colonel, pushing his chin over the bed-clothes. "Who expects to be satisfied?"

"Why, every man, woman and child on the top o' the earth; and it juststrikes me I've never, personally, known anybody get there but thesefellas at Holy Cross. "

The Colonel pushed back the bedclothes a little farther with his chin. 

"Haven't you got the gumption to see why it is this place and these mentake such a hold on you? It's because you've eaten, slept, and livedfor half a year in a space the size of this bedroom. We've got so usedto narrowing life down, that the first result of a little largeroutlook is to make us dizzy. Now, you hurry up and get to bed. You'llsleep it off. "

 * * * * *

The Boy woke at four o'clock, and after the match-light, by which heconsulted his watch, had flickered out, he lay a long time staring atthe dark. 

Silence still reigned supreme, when at last he got up, washed anddressed, and went downstairs. An irresistible restlessness had seizedhold of him. 

He pulled on his furs, cautiously opened the door, and went out--down, over the crisp new crust, to the river and back in the dimness, pastthe Fathers' House to the settlement behind, then to the right towardsthe hillside. As he stumbled up the slope he came to a littleburial-ground. Half hidden in the snow, white wooden crosses marked thegraves. "And here I shall be buried, " she had said--"here. " He camedown the hill and round by the Sisters' House. 

That window! That was where a light had shone the evening they arrived, and a nun--Sister Winifred--had stood drawing the thick curtains, shutting out the world. 

He thought, in the intense stillness, that he heard sounds from thatupper room. Yes, surely an infant's cry. 

A curious, heavy-hearted feeling came upon him, as he turned away, andwent slowly back towards the other house. 

He halted a moment under the Cross, and stared up at it. The door ofthe Fathers' House opened, and the Travelling Priest stood on thethreshold. The Boy went over to him, nodding good-morning. 

"So you are all ready--eager to go from us?"

"No; but, you see--"

"I see. "

He held the door open, and the Boy went in. 

"I don't believe the Colonel's awake yet, " he said, as he took off hisfurs. "I'll just run up and rouse him. "

"It is very early"--the priest laid his hand on the young man'sarm--"and he will not sleep so well for many a night to come. It is anhour till breakfast. "

Henry had lit the fire, and now left it roaring. The priest took achair, and pushed one forward for his guest. 

The Boy sat down, stretched his legs out straight towards the fire, andlifting his hands, clasped them behind his head. The priest read thehomesick face like a book. 

"Why are you up here?" Before there was time for reply he added:"Surely a young man like you could find, nearer home, many a gate ajar. And you must have had glimpses through of--things many and fair. "

"Oh, yes, I've had glimpses of those things. "

"Well----"

"What I wanted most I never saw. "

"You wanted----"

"To be--_sure_. "

"Ah! it is one of the results of agnosticism. "

The Boy never saw the smile. 

"I've said--and I was not lying--that I came away to shorten thebusiness of fortune-making--to buy back an old place we love, my sisterand I; but----"

"Which does she love best, the old place or the young brother?"

"Oh, she cares about me--no doubt o' that. " He smiled the smile offaith. 

"Has she ... An understanding heart?"

"The most I know. "

"Then she would be glad to know you had found a home for the spirit. Ahome for the body, what does it matter?"

In the pause, Father Brachet opened the door, but seemed suddenly toremember some imperative call elsewhere. The Boy jumped up, but theSuperior had vanished without even "Good-morning. " The Boy sat downagain. 

"Of course, " he went on, with that touch of pedantry so common inAmerican youth, "the difficulty in my case is an intellectual one. Ithink I appreciate the splendid work you do, and I see as I never sawbefore----" He stopped. 

"You strike your foot against the same stone of stumbling over whichthe Pharisees fell, when the man whom Jesus healed by the way repliedto their questioning: 'Whether He be a sinner or no, I know not. Onething I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see. '"

"I don't deny that the life here has been a revelation to me. I'm nottalkin' about creeds (for I don't know much about them, and I don'tthink it's in me to care much); but so far as the work here isconcerned--" He paused. 

"We can take little credit for that; it is the outcome of our Order. "

The Boy failed to catch the effect of the capital letter. 

"Yes, it's just that--the order, the good government! A fella would bea bigot if he couldn't see that the system is as nearly perfect as ahuman institution can be. "

"That has been said before of the Society of Jesus. " But he spoke withthe wise man's tolerance for the discoveries of the young. Still, itwas not to discuss the merits of his Order that he had got up an hourbefore his time. "I understand, maybe better than yourself, somethingof the restlessness that drove you here. "

"You understand?"

The priest nodded. 

"You had the excuse of the old plantation and the sister--"

The Boy sat up suddenly, a little annoyed. 

The priest kept on: "But you felt a great longing to make a breach inthe high walls that shut you in. You wanted to fare away on some voyageof discovery. Wasn't that it?". He paused now in his turn, but the Boylooked straight before him, saying nothing. The priest leaned forwardwith a deeper gravity. 

"It will be a fortunate expedition, this, my son, _if thou discoverthyself_--and in time!" Still the Boy said nothing. The other resumedmore lightly: "In America we combine our travels with business. But itis no new idea in the world that a young man should have his Wanderjahrbefore he finds what he wants, or even finds acquiescence. It did notneed Wilhelm Meister to set the feet of youth on that trail; it did notneed the Crusades. It's as old as the idea of a Golden Fleece or aPromised Land. It was the first man's first inkling of heaven. "

The Boy pricked his ears. Wasn't this heresy?

"The old idea of the strenuous, to leave home and comfort and security, and go out to search for wisdom, or holiness, or happiness--whether itis gold or the San Grael, the instinct of Search is deep planted in therace. It is this that the handful of men who live in what they call'the world'--it is this they forget. Every hour in the greater worldoutside, someone, somewhere, is starting out upon this journey. He maygo only as far as Germany to study philosophy, or to the nearestmountain-top, and find there the thing he seeks; or he may go to theends of the earth, and still not find it. He may travel in a Hindu gownor a Mongolian tunic, or he comes, like Father Brachet, out of hisvineyards in 'the pleasant land of France, ' or, like you, out of acountry where all problems are to be solved by machinery. But my pointis, _they come_! When all the other armies of the world are disbanded, that army, my son, will be still upon the march. "

They were silent awhile, and still the young face gave no sign. 

"To many, " the Travelling Priest went on, "the impulse is a blind oneor a shy one, shrinking from calling itself by the old names. But nonethe less this instinct for the Quest is still the gallant way of youth, confronted by a sense of the homelessness they cannot think will last. "

"That's it, Father! That's it!" the Boy burst out. "Homelessness! Tofeel that is to feel something urging you----" He stopped, frowning. 

"----urging you to take up your staff, " said the priest. 

They were silent a moment, and then the same musical voice tolled outthe words like a low bell: "But with all your journeying, my son, youwill come to no Continuing City. "

"It's no use to say this to me. You see, I am----"

"I'll tell you why I say it. " The priest laid a hand on his arm. "I seemen going up and down all their lives upon this Quest. Once in a greatwhile I see one for whom I think the journey may be shortened. "

"How shortened?"

A heavy step on the stair, and the Boy seemed to wake from a dream. 

"Good-morning, " said the Colonel, coming in cheerily, rubbing hishands. 

"I am very jealous!" He glanced at the Boy's furs on the floor. "Youhave been out, seeing the rest of the mission without me. "

"No--no, we will show you the rest--as much as you care for, afterbreakfast. "

"I'm afraid we oughtn't to delay--"

But they did--"for a few minutes while zey are putting a little freshmeat on your sled, " as Father Brachet said. They went first to see thedogs fed. For they got breakfast when they were at home, those pamperedmission dogs. 

"And now we will show you our store-house, our caches--"

While Father Brachet looked in the bunch for the key he wanted, anative came by with a pail. He entered the low building on the left, leaving wide the door. 

"What? No! Is it really? No, not _really!_" The Colonel was moreexcited than the Boy had ever seen him. Without the smallest ceremonyhe left the side of his obliging host, strode to the open door, anddisappeared inside. 

"What on earth's the matter?"

"I cannot tell. It is but our cow-house. "

They followed, and, looking in at the door, the Boy saw a picture thatfor many a day painted itself on his memory. For inside the dim, straw-strewn place stood the big Kentuckian, with one arm round thecow, talking to her and rubbing her nose, while down his own a teartrickled. 

"Hey? Well, yes! Just my view, Sukey. Yes, old girl, Alaska's a funnykind o' place for you and me to be in, isn't it? Hey? Ye-e-yes. " And hestroked the cow and sniffed back the salt water, and called out, seeingthe Boy, "Look! They've got a thoroughbred bull, too, an' a heifer. Lord, I haven't been in any place so like home for a coon's age! You goand look at the caches. I'll stay here while Sambo milks her. "

"My name is Sebastian. "

"Oh, all right; reckon you can milk her under that name, too. "

When they came back, the Colonel was still there exchanging views aboutAlaska with Sukey, and with Sebastian about the bull. Sister Winifredcame hurrying over the snow to the cow-house with a little tin pail inher hand. 

"Ah, but you are slow, Sebastian!" she called out almost petulantly. "Good-morning, " she said to the others, and with a quick clutch at arespectful and submissive demeanour, she added, half aside: "What doyou think, Father Brachet? They forgot that baby because he is good andsleeps late. They drink up all the milk. "

"Ah, there is very little now. "

"Very little, Father, " said Sebastian, returning to the task from whichthe Colonel's conversation had diverted him. 

"I put aside some last night, and they used it. I send you to bring meonly a little drop"--she was by Sebastian now, holding out the smallpail, unmindful of the others, who were talking stock--"and you stay, and stay--"

"Give me your can. " The Boy took it from her, and held it inside thebig milk-pail, so that the thin stream struck it sharply. 

"There; it is enough. "

Her shawl had fallen. The Colonel gathered it up. 

"I will carry the milk back for you, " said the Boy, noticing how redand cold the slim hands were. "Your fingers will be frostbitten if youdon't wrap them up. " She pulled the old shawl closely round her, andset a brisk pace back to the Sisters' House. 

"I must go carefully or I might slip, and if I spilt the milk--"

"Oh, you mustn't do that!"

She paused suddenly, and then went on, but more slowly than before. Aglaze had formed on the hard-trodden path, and one must needs walkwarily. Once she looked back with anxiety, and, seeing that theprecious milk was being carried with due caution, her glance wentgratefully to the Boy's face. He felt her eyes. 

"I'm being careful, " he laughed, a little embarrassed and not at firstlifting his bent head. When, after an instant, he did so, he found thebeautiful calm eyes full upon him. But no self-consciousness there. Sheturned away, gentle and reflective, and was walking on when some quicksummons seemed to reach her. She stopped quite still again, as ifseized suddenly by a detaining hand. Her own hands dropped straight ather sides, and the rusty shawl hung free. A second time she turned, theBoy thought to him again; but as he glanced up, wondering, he saw thatthe fixed yet serene look went past him like a homing-dove. Aneglected, slighted feeling came over him. She wasn't thinking of himthe least in the world, nor even of the milk he was at such pains tocarry for her. What was she staring at? He turned his head over hisright shoulder. Nothing. No one. As he came slowly on, he kept glancingat her. She, still with upturned face, stood there in the attitude ofan obedient child receiving admonition. One cold little hand flutteredup to her silver cross. Ah! He turned again, understanding now thedrift, if not the inner meaning, of that summons that had come. 

"Your friend said something--" She nodded faintly, riverwards, towardsthe mission sign. "Did you feel like that about it--when you saw itfirst?"

"Oh--a--I'm not religious like the Colonel. "

She smiled, and walked on. 

At the door, as she took the milk, instead of "Thank you, " "Wait amoment. "

She was back again directly. 

"You are going far beyond the mission ... So carry this with you. Ihope it will guide you as it guides us. "

On his way back to the Fathers' House, he kept looking at what SisterWinifred had given him--a Latin cross of silver scarce three incheslong. At the intersection of the arms it bore a chased lozenge on whichwas a mitre; above it, the word "Alaska, " and beneath, the crossed keysof St. Peter and the letters, "P. T. R. "

As he came near to where the Colonel and his hosts were, he slipped thecross into his pocket. His fingers encountered Muckluck's medal. Uponsome wholly involuntary impulse, he withdrew Sister Winifred's gift, and transferred it to another pocket. But he laughed to himself. "Bothsort o' charms, after all. " And again he looked at the big cross andthe heaven above it, and down at the domain of the Inua, the jealousgod of the Yukon. 

Twenty minutes later the two travellers were saying good-bye to the menof Holy Cross, and making their surprised and delighted acknowledgmentsfor the brand-new canvas cover they found upon the Colonel's new sled. 

"Oh, it is not we, " said Father Brachet; "it is made by ze Sisters. Zeyshall know zat you were pleased. "

Father Richmond held the Boy's hand a moment. 

"I see you go, my son, but I shall see you return. "

"No, Father, I shall hardly come this way again. "

Father Brachet, smiling, watched them start up the long trail. 

"I sink we shall meet again, " were his last words. 

"What does he mean?" asked the Colonel, a little high and mightily. "What plan has he got for a meeting?"

"Same plan as you've got, I s'pose. I believe you both call it'Heaven. '"

The Holy Cross thermometer had registered twenty degrees below zero, but the keen wind blowing down the river made it seem more like fortybelow. When they stopped to lunch, they had to crouch down behind thesled to stand the cold, and the Boy found that his face and ears werebadly frost-bitten. The Colonel discovered that the same thing hadbefallen the toes of his left foot. They rubbed the afflicted members, and tried not to let their thoughts stray backwards. The Jesuits hadtold them of an inhabited cabin twenty-three miles up the river, andthey tried to fix their minds on that. In a desultory way, when thewind allowed it, they spoke of Minóok, and of odds and ends they'dheard about the trail. They spoke of the Big Chimney Cabin, and of howat Anvik they would have their last shave. The one subject neitherseemed anxious to mention was Holy Cross. It was a little "marked, " theColonel felt; but he wasn't going to say the first word, since he meantto say the last. 

About five o'clock the gale went down, but it came on to snow. At seventhe Colonel said decidedly: "We can't make that cabin to-night. "

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not going any further, with this foot--" He threw down thesled-rope, and limped after wood for the fire. 

The Boy tilted the sled up by an ice-hummock, and spread the new canvasso that it gave some scant shelter from the snow. Luckily, for once, the wind how grown quite lamb-like--for the Yukon. It would be thoughta good stiff breeze almost anywhere else. 

Directly they had swallowed supper the Colonel remarked: "I feel asready for my bed as I did Saturday night. "

Ah! Saturday night--that was different. They looked at each other withthe same thought. 

"Well, that bed at Holy Cross isn't any whiter than this, " laughed theBoy. 

But the Colonel was not to be deceived by this light and airyreference. His own unwilling sentiments were a guide to the Boy's, andhe felt it incumbent upon him to restore the Holy Cross incident to itsproper proportions. Those last words of Father Brachet's bothered him. Had they been "gettin' at" the Boy?

"You think all that mission business mighty wonderful--just because yourun across it in Alaska. "

"And isn't it wonderful at all?"

The Boy spoke dreamily, and, from force of old habit, held out hismittened hands to the unavailing fire. 

The Colonel gave a prefatory grunt of depreciation, but he was pullinghis blankets out from under the stuff on the sled. 

The Boy turned his head, and watched him with a little smile. "I'lladmit that I always _used_ to think the Jesuits were a shady lot--"

"So they are--most of 'em. "

"Well, I don't know about 'most of 'em. ' You and Mac used to talk a lotabout the 'motives' of the few I do know. But as far as I can see, every creature who comes up to this country comes to take something outof it--except those Holy Cross fellas. They came to bring something. "

The Colonel had got the blankets out now, but where was the rubbersheet? He wouldn't sleep on it in this weather, again, for a kingdom, but when the thaws came, if those explorer fellas were right--

In his sense of irritation at a conscientious duty to perform and noclear notion of how to discharge it, he made believe it was thedifficulty in finding the rubber sheet he didn't want that made him outof sorts. 

"It's bitter work, anyhow, this making beds with your fingers stiff andraw, " he said. 

"Is it?"

Dignity looked at Impudence sitting in the shelter, smiling. 

"Humph! Just try it, " growled the Colonel. 

"I s'pose the man over the fire cookin' supper does _look_ better offthan the 'pore pardner' cuttin' down trees and makin' beds in the snow. But he isn't. "

"Oh, isn't he?" It was all right, but the Big Chimney boss felt he hadchosen the lion's share of the work in electing to be woodman; still, it wasn't _that_ that troubled him. Now, what was it he had been goingto say about the Jesuits? Something very telling. 

"If you mean that you'd rather go back to the cookin', " the Boy wassaying, "_I'm_ agreeable. "

"Well, you start in to-morrow, and see if you're so agreeable. "

"All right. I think I dote on one job just about as much as I do ont'other. "

But still the Colonel frowned. He couldn't remember that excellentthing he had been going to say about Romanists. But he sniffedderisively, and flung over his shoulder:

"To hear you goin' on, anybody'd think the Jesuits were the onlyChristians. As if there weren't others, who--"

"Oh, yes, Christians with gold shovels and Winchester rifles. I know'em. But if gold hadn't been found, how many of the army that's invadedthe North--how many would be here, if it hadn't been for the gold? Butall this Holy Cross business would be goin' on just the same, as it hasdone for years and years. "

With a mighty tug the Colonel dragged out the rubber blanket, flung itdown on the snow, and squared himself, back to the fire, to make shortwork of such views. 

"I'd no notion you were such a sucker. You can bet, " he said darkly, "those fellas aren't making a bad thing out of that 'Holy Crossbusiness, ' as you call it. "

"I didn't mean business in that sense. "

"What else could they do if they didn't do this?"

"Ask the same of any parson. "

But the Colonel didn't care to. 

"I suppose, " he said severely, "you could even make a hero out of thathang-dog Brother Etienne. "

"No, but he _could_ do something else, for he's served in the Frencharmy. "

"Then there's that mad Brother Paul. What good would he be at anythingelse?"

"Well, I don't know. "

"Brachet and Wills are decent enough men, but where else would theyhave the power and the freedom they have at Holy Cross? Why, they livethere like feudal barons. "

"Father Richmond could have done anything he chose. "

"Ah, Father Richmond--" The Colonel shut his mouth suddenly, turnedabout, and proceeded to crawl under his blankets, feet to the fire. 

"Well?"

No answer. 

"Well?" insisted the Boy. 

"Oh, Father Richmond must have seen a ghost. "

"_What!_"

"Take my word for it. _He_ got frightened somehow. A man like FatherRichmond has to be scared into a cassock. "

The Boy's sudden laughter deepened the Colonel's own impression thatthe instance chosen had not been fortunate. One man of courage knowsanother man of courage when he sees him, and the Colonel knew he haddamned his own argument. 

"Wouldn't care for the job myself, " the Boy was saying. 

"What job?"

"Scarin' Father Richmond. "

The Boy sat watching the slow wet snow-flakes fall and die in the fire. His clothes were pretty damp, but he was warm after a chilly fashion, as warmth goes on the trail. 

The Colonel suddenly put his head out from under the marmot-skin to saydiscontentedly, "What you sittin' up for?"

"Oh ... For instance!" But aside from the pertness of the answer, already it was dimly recognised as an offence for one to stay up longerthan the other. 

"Can't think how it is, " the Colonel growled, "that you don't see thattheir principle is wrong. Through and through mediaeval, through andthrough despotic. They make a virtue of weakness, a fetich of vestedauthority. And it isn't American authority, either. "

The Boy waited for him to quiet down. "What's the first rule, " demandedthe Colonel, half sitting up, "of the most powerful Catholic Order?Blind obedience to an old gentleman over in Italy. "

"I said last night, you know, " the Boy put in quite meekly, "that itall seemed very un-American. "

"Huh! Glad you can see that much. " The Colonel drove his huge fist atthe provision-bag, as though to beat the stiffnecked beans into afeathery yielding. "Blind submission don't come easy to most Americans. The Great Republic was built upon revolt;" and he pulled the coversover his head. 

"I know, I know. We jaw an awful lot about freedom and about what'sAmerican. There's plenty o' free speech in America and plenty o'machinery, but there's a great deal o' human nature, too, I guess. " TheBoy looked out of the corner of his eye at the blanketed back of hisbig friend. "And maybe there'll always be some people who--who thinkthere's something in the New Testament notion o' sacrifice andservice. "

The Colonel rolled like an angry leviathan, and came to the surface toblow. But the Boy dashed on, with a fearful joy in his own temerity. "The difference between us, Colonel, is that I'm an unbeliever, and Iknow it, and you're a cantankerous old heathen, and you _don't_ knowit. " The Colonel sat suddenly bolt upright. "Needn't look at me likethat. You're as bad as anybody--rather worse. Why are you _here?_Dazzled and lured by the great gold craze. An' you're not even poor. You want _more_ gold. You've got a home to stay in; but you weren'tsatisfied, not even in the fat lands down below. "

"Well, " said the Colonel solemnly, blinking at the fire, "I hope I'm aChristian, but as to bein' satisfied--"

"Church of England can't manage it, hey?"

"Church of England's got nothing to do with it. It's a question o'character. Satisfied! We're little enough, God knows, but we're too bigfor that. "

The Boy stood up, back to the fire, eyes on the hilltops whitening inthe starlight. 

"Perhaps--not--all of us. "

"Yes, sah, all of us. " The Colonel lifted his head with a fierce lookof most un-Christian pride. Behind him the hills, leaving thestruggling little wood far down the slope, went up and up into dimness, reaching to the near-by stars, and looking down to the far-off campfire by the great ice-river's edge. 

"Yes, sah, " the Colonel thundered again, "all that have got goodfightin' blood in 'em, like you and me. 'Tisn't as if we came of anyworn-out, frightened, servile old stock. You and I belong to thefree-livin', hard-ridin', straight-shootin' Southerners. The peoplebefore us fought bears, and fought Indians, and beat the British, andwhen there wasn't anything else left to beat, turned round and began tobeat one another. It was the one battle we found didn't pay. Wefinished that job up in '65, and since then we've been lookin' roundfor something else to beat. We've got down now to beatin' records, andforeign markets, and breedin' prize bulls; but we don't breedcowards--yet; and we ain't lookin' round for any asylums. The CatholicChurch is an asylum. It's for people who never had any nerve, or whohave lost it. "

The Colonel turned about, wagged his head defiantly at the icy hillsand the night, and in the after-stillness fell sound asleep in thesnow. 

CHAPTER XII

THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE

 "--paa dit Firmament Den klare Nordlyslampe taendt.... "

Innocently thinking that they had seen Arctic travelling at its worst, and secretly looking upon themselves as highly accomplished trailmen, they had covered the forty-one miles from Holy Cross to Anvik in lessthan three days. 

The Colonel made much of the pleasant and excellent man at the head ofthe Episcopal mission there, and the Boy haunted Benham's store, picking up a little Ingalik and the A. C. Method of trading with theIndians, who, day and night, with a number of stranded Klondykers, congregated about the grateful warmth of the big iron stove. 

The travellers themselves did some business with the A. C. Agent, laying in supplies of fresh meat, and even augmenting their hithertocarefully restricted outfit, for they were going far beyond the reachof stores, or even of missions. Anvik was the last white settlementbelow Nulato; Nulato was said to be over two hundred miles to thenorthward. 

And yet after all their further preparation and expense, each man keptsaying in his heart, during those first days out from Anvik, that thejourney would be easy enough but for their "comforts"--the burden onthe sled. By all the rules of arithmetic, the daily subtraction ofthree meals from the store should have lightened the load. It seemed tohave the opposite effect. By some process of evil enchantment everyounce grew to weigh a pound, every pound a hundredweight. The sleditself was bewitched. Recall how lightsomely it ran down the snowyslope, from the Big Chimney Cabin to the river trail, that morning theyset forth. The Boy took its pretty impetuosity for a happy augury--thevery sled was eager for the mighty undertaking. 

But never in all that weary march did it manifest again any such modestalacrity. If, thereafter, in the long going "up river" there came aninterval of downhill, the sled turned summersaults in the air, woundits forward or backward rope round willow scrub or alder, or elseadvanced precipitately with an evil, low-comedy air, bottom side up, toattack its master in the shins. It either held back with a powersuperhuman, or it lunged forward with a momentum that capsized itsweary conductor. Its manners grew steadily worse as the travellerspushed farther and farther into the wilderness, beyond the exorcisingpower of Holy Cross, beyond the softening influences of Christianhospitality at Episcopal Anvik, even beyond Tischsocket, the last ofthe Indian villages for a hundred miles. 

The two who had been scornful of the frailty of temper they had seencommon in men's dealings up here in the North, began to realize thatall other trials of brotherhood pale before the strain of life on theArctic trail. Beyond any question, after a while something goes wrongwith the nerves. The huge drafts on muscular endurance have, no doubt, something to do with it. They worked hard for fourteen, sometimesseventeen, hours at a stretch; they were ill-fed, suffering fromexposure, intense cold, and a haunting uncertainty of the end of theundertaking. They were reasonable fellows as men go, with a respect foreach other, but when hardship has got on the nerves, when you aresuffering the agonies of snow-blindness, sore feet, and the pangs ofhunger, you are not, to put it mildly, at your best as a member of thesocial order. They sometimes said things they were ashamed to remember, but both men grew carefuller at crucial moments, and the talkative onemore silent as time went on. 

By the rule of the day the hard shift before dinner usually fell to theBoy. It was the worst time in the twenty-four hours, and equallydreaded by both men. It was only the first night out from Anvik, afteran unusually trying day, the Boy was tramping heavily ahead, bent likean old man before the cutting sleet, fettered like a criminal, handsbehind back, rope-wound, stiff, straining at the burden of the slow andsullen sled. On a sudden he stopped, straightened his back, andremonstrated with the Colonel in unprintable terms, for putting off thehalt later than ever they had yet, "after such a day. "

"Can't make fire with green cotton-wood, " was the Colonel's rejoiner. 

"Then let's stop and rest, anyhow. "

"Nuh! We know where that would land us. Men who stop to rest, go tosleep in the snow, and men who go to sleep in the snow on emptystomachs don't wake up. "

They pushed on another mile. When the Colonel at last called the halt, the Boy sank down on the sled too exhausted to speak. But it had grownto be a practice with them not to trust themselves to talk at thishour. The Colonel would give the signal to stop, simply by ceasing topush the sled that the boy was wearily dragging. The Boy had invariablybeen feeling (just as the Colonel had before, during his shift infront) that the man behind wasn't helping all he might, whereuponfollowed a vague, consciously unreasonable, but wholly irresistiblerage against the partner of his toil. But however much the man at theback was supposed to spare himself, the man in front had never yetfailed to know when the impetus from behind was really removed. 

The Boy sat now on the sled, silent, motionless, while the Colonelfelled and chopped and brought the wood. Then the Boy dragged himselfup, made the fire and the beef-tea. But still no word even after thatreviving cup--the usual signal for a few remarks and more socialrelations to be established. Tonight no sound out of either. TheColonel changed his footgear and the melted snow in the pot began toboil noisily. But the Boy, who had again betaken himself to the sled, didn't budge. No man who really knows the trail would have dared, underthe circumstances, to remind his pardner that it was now his businessto get up and fry the bacon. But presently, without looking up, thehungry Colonel ventured:

"Get your dry things!"

"Feet aren't wet. "

"Don't talk foolishness; here are your things. " The Colonel flung inthe Boy's direction the usual change, two pairs of heavy socks, the"German knitted" and "the felt. "

"Not wet, " repeated the Boy. 

"You know you are. "

"Could go through water in these mucklucks. "

"I'm not saying the wet has come in from outside; but you know as wellas I do a man sweats like a horse on the trail. "

Still the Boy sat there, with his head sunk between his shoulders. 

"First rule o' this country is to keep your feet dry, or elsepneumonia, rheumatism--God knows what!"

"First rule o' this country is mind your own business, or else--Godknows what!"

The Colonel looked at the Boy a moment, and then turned his back. TheBoy glanced up conscience-stricken, but still only half alive, dulledby the weight of a crushing weariness. The Colonel presently bent overthe fire and was about to lift off the turbulently boiling pot. The Boysprang to his feet, ready to shout, "You do your work, and keep yourhands off mine, " but the Colonel turned just in time to say withunusual gentleness:

"If you _like_, I'll make supper to-night;" and the Boy, catching hisbreath, ran forward, swaying a little, half blind, but with a differentlook in his tired eyes. 

"No, no, old man. It isn't as bad as that. "

And again it was two friends who slept side by side in the snow. 

The next morning the Colonel, who had been kept awake half the night bywhat he had been thinking was neuralgia in his eyes, woke late, hearingthe Boy calling:

"I say, Kentucky, aren't you _ever_ goin' to get up?"

"Get up?" said the Colonel. "Why should I, when it's pitch-dark?"

"_What?_"

"Fire clean out, eh?" But he smelt the tea and bacon, and sat upbewildered, with a hand over his smarting eyes. The Boy went over andknelt down by him, looking at him curiously. 

"Guess you're a little snow-blind, Colonel; but it won't last, youknow. "

"Blind!"

"No, no, only _snow_-blind. Big difference;" and he took out his rag ofa handkerchief, got some water in a tin cup, and the eyes were bathedand bandaged. 

"It won't last, you know. You'll just have to take it easy for a fewdays. "

The Colonel groaned. 

For the first time he seemed to lose heart. He sat during breakfastwith bandaged eyes, and a droop of the shoulders, that seemed to sayold age had come upon him in a single night. The day that followed waspretty dark to both men. The Boy had to do all the work, except themonotonous, blind, pushing from behind, in whatever direction the Boydragged the sled. 

Now, snow-blindness is not usually dangerous, but it is horriblypainful while it lasts. Your eyes swell up and are stabbed continuallyby cutting pains; your head seems full of acute neuralgia, and oftenthere is fever and other complications. The Colonel's was a bad case. But he was a giant for strength and "sound as a dollar, " as the Boyreminded him, "except for this little bother with your eyes, and you'rea whole heap better already. "

At a very slow rate they plodded along. 

They had got into a region where there was no timber; but, as theycouldn't camp without a fire, they took an extra rest that day at fouro'clock, and regaled themselves on some cold grub. Then they took upthe line of march again. But they had been going only about half anhour when the Colonel suddenly, without warning, stopped pushing thesled, and stood stock-still on the trail. The Boy, feeling the removalof the pressure, looked round, went back to him, and found nothing inparticular was the matter, but he just thought he wouldn't go anyfurther. 

"We can camp here. "

"No, we can't, " says the Boy; "there isn't a tree in sight. "

But the Colonel seemed dazed. He thought he'd stop anyhow--"right wherehe was. "

"Oh, no, " says the Boy, a little frightened; "we'll camp the minute wecome to wood. " But the Colonel stood as if rooted. The Boy took his armand led him on a few paces to the sled. "You needn't push hard, youknow. Just keep your hand there so, without looking, you'll know whereI'm going. " This was very subtle of the Boy. For he knew the Colonelwas blind as a bat and as sensitive as a woman. "We'll get through allright yet, " he called back, as he stooped to take up the sledrope. "Ibet on Kentucky. "

Like a man walking in his sleep, the Colonel followed, now holding onto the sled and unconsciously pulling a little, and when the Boy, verynearly on his last legs, remonstrated, leaning against it, and sourging it a little forward. 

Oh, but the wood was far to seek that night!

Concentrated on the two main things--to carry forward his almostintolerable load, and to go the shortest way to the nearest wood--theBoy, by-and-by, forgot to tell his tired nerves to take account of theunequal pressure from behind. If he felt it--well, the Colonel was acorker; if he didn't feel it--well, the Colonel was just about tuckeredout. It was very late when at last the Boy raised a shout. Behind thecliff overhanging the river-bed that they were just rounding, there, spread out in the sparkling starlight, as far as he could see, a vastprimeval forest. The Boy bettered his lagging pace. 

"Ha! you haven't seen a wood like this since we left 'Frisco. It's allright now, Kentucky;" and he bent to his work with a will. 

When he got to the edge of the wood, he flung down the rope andturned--to find himself alone. 

"Colonel! Colonel! Where are you? _Colonel!_"

He stood in the silence, shivering with a sudden sense of desolation. He took his bearings, propped a fallen fir sapling aslant by the sled, and, forgetting he was ready to drop, he ran swiftly hack along the wayhe came. They had travelled all that afternoon and evening on the riverice, hard as iron, retaining no trace of footprint or of runnerpossible to verify even in daylight. The Yukon here was fully threemiles wide. They had meant to hug the right bank, but snow and icerefashion the world and laugh at the trustful geography of men. Atraveller on this trail is not always sure whether he is following themighty Yukon or some slough equally mighty for a few miles, or whether, in the protracted twilight, he has not wandered off upon some frozenswamp. 

On the Boy went in the ghostly starlight, running, stumbling, callingat regular intervals, his voice falling into a melancholy monotony thatsounded foreign to himself. It occurred to him that were he the Colonelhe wouldn't recognise it, and he began instead to call "Kentucky!Ken-tuck-kee!" sounding those fine barbaric syllables for the firsttime, most like, in that world of ice and silence. 

He stood an instant after his voice died, and listened to the quiet. Yes, the people were right who said nothing was so hard to bear in thiscountry of hardship--nothing ends by being so ghastly--as the silence. No bird stirs. The swift-flashing fish are sealed under ice, the woodcreatures gone to their underground sleep. No whispering of the pointedfirs, stiff, snowclotted; no swaying of the scant herbage sheathed inice or muffled under winter's wide white blanket. No greater hush canreign in the interstellar spaces than in winter on the Yukon. 

"Colonel!"

Silence--like a negation of all puny things, friendship, human life--

"Colonel!"

Silence. No wonder men went mad up here, when they didn't drown thissilence in strong drink. 

On and on he ran, till he felt sure he must have passed the Colonel, unless--yes, there were those air-holes in the river ice ... He feltchoked and stopped to breathe. Should he go back? It was horrible toturn. It was like admitting that the man was not to be found--that thiswas the end. 

"Colonel!"

He said to himself that he would go back, and build a fire for asignal, and return; but he ran on farther and farther away from thesled and from the forest. Was it growing faintly light? He looked up. Oh, yes; presently it would be brighter still. Those streamers of palelight dancing in the North; they would be green and scarlet and orangeand purple, and the terrible white world would be illumined as byconflagration. He stopped again. That the Colonel should have droppedso far back as this, and the man in front not know--it was incredible. What was that? A shadow on the ice. A frozen hummock? No, a man. Was itreally.... ? Glory hallelujah--it _was!_ But the shadow lay thereghastly still and the Boy's greeting died in his throat. He had foundthe Colonel, but he had found him delivered over to that treacheroussleep that seldom knows a waking. The Boy dropped down beside hisfriend, and wasn't far off crying. But it was a tonic to young nervesto see how, like one dead, the man lay there, for all the calling andtugging by the arm. The Boy rolled the body over, pulled open thethings at the neck, and thrust his hand down, till he could feel theheart beating. He jumped up, got a handful of snow, and rubbed theman's face with it. At last a feeble protest--an effort to get awayfrom the Boy's rude succour. 

"Thank God! Colonel! Colonel! wake up!"

He shook him hard. But the big man only growled sullenly, and let hisleaden weight drop back heavily on the ice. The Boy got hold of theneck of the Colonel's parki and pulled him frantically along the ice afew yards, and then realised that only the terror of the moment gavehim the strength to do that much. To drag a man of the Colonel's weightall the way to the wood was stark impossibility. He couldn't get himeighty yards. If he left him and went for the sled and fuel, the manwould be dead by the time he got back. If he stayed, they would both befrozen in a few hours. It was pretty horrible. 

He felt faint and dizzy. It occurred to him that he would pray. He wasan agnostic all right, but the Colonel was past praying for himself;and here was his friend--an agnostic--here he was on his knees. Hehadn't prayed since he was a little chap down in the South. How did theprayers go? "Our Father"--he looked up at the reddening aurora--"OurFather, who art in heaven--" His eyes fell again on his friend. Heleapt to his feet like a wild animal, and began to go at the Colonelwith his fists. The blows rained thick on the chest of the prostrateman, but he was too well protected to feel more than the shock. But nowthey came battering down, under the ear--right, left, as the man turnedblindly to avoid them--on the jaw, even on the suffering eyes, and thatat last stung the sleeper into something like consciousness. 

He struggled to his feet with a roar like a wounded bull, lungingheavily forward as the Boy eluded him, and he would have pounded theyoung fellow out of existence in no time had he stood his ground. Thatwas exactly what the Boy didn't mean to do--he was always just a littleway on in front; but as the Colonel's half-insane rage cooled, and heslowed down a bit, the Boy was at him again like some imp of Satan. Sound and lithe and quick-handed as he was, he was no match for theColonel at his best. But the Colonel couldn't see well, and his brainwas on fire. He'd kill that young devil, and then he'd lie down andsleep again. 

Meanwhile Aurora mounted the high heavens; from a great corona in thezenith all the sky was hung with banners, and the snow was stained asif with blood. The Boy looked over his shoulder, and saw the hugefigure of his friend, bearing down upon him, with his discoloured facerage-distorted, and murder in his tortured eyes. A moment's sense ofthe monstrous spectacle fell so poignant upon the Boy, that he feltdimly he must have been full half his life running this race withdeath, followed by a maniac bent on murder, in a world whose winter wasstrangely lit with the leaping fires of hell. 

At last, on there in front, the cliff! Below it, the sharp bend in theriver, and although he couldn't see it yet, behind the cliff theforest, and a little hand-sled bearing the means of life. 

The Colonel was down again, but it wasn't safe to go near him just yet. The Boy ran on, unpacked the sled, and went, axe in hand, along themargin of the wood. Never before was a fire made so quickly. Then, withthe flask, back to the Colonel, almost as sound asleep as before. 

The Boy never could recall much about the hours that followed. Therewas nobody to help, so it must have been he who somehow got the Colonelto the fire, got him to swallow some food, plastered his wounded faceover with the carbolic ointment, and got him into bed, for in themorning all this was seen to have been done. 

They stayed in camp that day to "rest up, " and the Boy shot a rabbit. The Colonel was coming round; the rest, or the ointment, or thetea-leaf poultice, had been good for snowblindness. The generousreserve of strength in his magnificent physique was quick to announceitself. He was still "frightfully bunged up, " but "I think we'll pushon to-morrow, " he said that night, as he sat by the fire smoking beforeturning in. 

"Right you are!" said the Boy, who was mending the sled-runner. Neitherhad referred to that encounter on the river-ice, that had ended inbringing the Colonel where there was succour. Nothing was said, then orfor long after, in the way of deliberate recognition that the Boy hadsaved his life. It wasn't necessary; they understood each other. 

But in the evening, after the Boy had finished mending the sled, itoccurred to him he must also mend the Colonel before they went to bed. He got out the box of ointment and bespread the strips of tornhandkerchief. 

"Don't know as I need that to-night, " says the Colonel. "Musn't wasteointment. " But the Boy brought the bandages round to the Colonel'sside of the fire. For an instant they looked at each other by theflickering light, and the Colonel laid his hand on the Boy's arm. Hiseyes looked worse for the moment, and began to water. He turned awaybrusquely, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe on a log. 

"What in hell made you think of it?"

"Ask me an easy one, " says the Boy. "But I know what the Jesuit Fatherswould say. "

"Jesuits and George Warren! Humph! precious little we'd agree about. "

"You would about this. It flashed over me when I looked back and sawyou peltin' after me. "

"Small wonder I made for you! I'm not findin' fault, but what on earthput it into your head to go at me with your fists like that?"

"You'll never prove it by me. But when I saw you comin' at me like amad bull, I thought to myself, thinks I, the Colonel and the Jesuits, they'd both of 'em say this was a direct answer to prayer. "

CHAPTER XIII

THE PIT

"L'humanité a commencé tout entière par le crime .... C'était le vieuxnourricier des hommes des cavernes. "--ANATOLE FRANCE. 

An old story now, these days of silent plodding through the drivingsnow. 

But if outward conditions lacked variety, not so their cumulativeeffect upon poor human nature. A change was going on in the travellersthat will little commend them to the sentimentalist. 

"I've come to think a snow-storm's all right to travel in, all right tosleep in, " said the Colonel one morning; "but to cook in, eat in, makeor break camp in--it's the devil's champion invention. " For three daysthey had worked like galley-slaves, and yet covered less than ten milesa day. "And you never get rested, " the Colonel went on; "I get up astired as I go to bed. " Again the Boy only nodded. His body, if not histemper, had got broken into the trail, but for a talkative person hehad in these days strangely little to say. It became manifest that, inthe long run, the Colonel would suffer the most physically; but hisyoung companion, having less patience and more ambition, more sheeruntamed vitality in him, would suffer the most in spirit. Every sensein him was becoming numbed, save the gnawing in his stomach, and thatother, even more acute ache, queer compound of fatigue and anger. Thesetwo sensations swallowed up all else, and seemed to grow by what theyfed on. 

The loaded sled was a nightmare. It weighed a thousand tons. The veryfirst afternoon out from Anvik, when in the desperate hauling andtugging that rescued it from a bottomless snow-drift, the lashingslipped, the load loosened, tumbled off, and rolled open, the Colonelstood quite still and swore till his half-frozen blood circulatedfreely again. When it came to repacking, he considered in detail theitems that made up the intolerable weight, and fell to wondering whichof them they could do without. 

The second day out from Anvik they had decided that it was absurd, after all, to lug about so much tinware. They left a little saucepanand the extra kettle at that camp. The idea, so potent at Anvik, ofhaving a tea-kettle in reserve--well, the notion lost weight, and thekettle seemed to gain. 

Two pairs of boots and some flannels marked the next stopping-place. 

On the following day, when the Boy's rifle kept slipping and making abrake to hold back the sled, "I reckon you'll have to plant that rifleo' yours in the next big drift, " said the Colonel; "one's all we need, anyway. "

"One's all you need, and one's all I need, " answered the Boy stiffly. 

But it wasn't easy to see immediate need for either. Never was countryso bare of game, they thought, not considering how little they hunted, and how more and more every faculty, every sense, was absorbed in thebare going forward. 

The next time the Colonel said something about the uselessness ofcarrying two guns, the Boy flared up: "If you object to guns, leaveyours. "

This was a new tone for the Boy to use to the Colonel. 

"Don't you think we'd better hold on to the best one?"

Now the Boy couldn't deny that the Colonel's was the better, but nonethe less he had a great affection for his own old 44 Marlin, and theColonel shouldn't assume that he had the right to dictate. Thisattitude of the "wise elder" seemed out of place on the trail. 

"A gun's a necessity. I haven't brought along any whim-whams. "

"Who has?"

"Well, it wasn't me that went loadin' up at Anvik with foolthermometers and things. "

"Thermometer! Why, it doesn't weigh--"

"Weighs something, and it's something to pack; frozen half the time, too. And when it isn't, what's the good of havin' it hammered into ushow near we are to freezin' to death. " But it annoyed him to think howvery little in argument a thermometer weighed against a rifle. 

They said no more that day about lightening the load, but with a doublemotive they made enormous inroads upon their provisions. 

A morning came when the Colonel, packing hurriedly in the biting cold, forgot to shove his pardner's gun into its accustomed place. 

The Boy, returning from trail-breaking to the river, kicked at the buttto draw attention to the omission. The Colonel flung down the end ofthe ice-coated rope he had lashed the load with, and, "Pack ityourself, " says he. 

The Boy let the rifle lie. But all day long he felt the loss of itheavy on his heart, and no reconciling lightness in the sled. 

The Colonel began to have qualms about the double rations they wereusing. It was only the seventeenth night after turning their backs onthe Big Chimney, as the Colonel tipped the pan, pouring out half theboiled beans into his pardner's plate, "That's the last o' thestrawberries! Don't go expectin' any more, " says he. 

"What!" ejaculated the Boy, aghast; then quickly, to keep a good face:"You take my life when you do take the beans, whereby I live. "

When the Colonel had disposed of his strawberries, "Lord!" he sighed, trying to rub the stiffness out of his hands over the smoke, "theappetite a fella can raise up here is something terrible. You eat andeat, and it doesn't seem to make any impression. You're just as hungryas ever. "

_"And the stuff a fella can eat!"_

The Colonel recalled that speech of the Boy's the very next night, when, after "a hell of a time" getting the fire alight, he was bendingforward in that attitude most trying to maintain, holding thefrying-pan at long range over the feebly-smoking sticks. He had tocook, to live on snow-shoes nowadays, for the heavy Colonel hadillustrated oftener than the Boy, that going without meant breaking in, floundering, and, finally, having to call for your pardner to haul youout. This was one of the many uses of a pardner on the trail. The lasttime the Colonel had trusted to the treacherous crust he had gone inhead foremost, and the Boy, happening to look round, saw only twosnow-shoes, bottom side up, moving spasmodically on the surface of thedrift. The Colonel was nearly suffocated by the time he was pulled out, and after that object-lesson he stuck to snow-shoes every hour of thetwenty-four, except those spent in the sleeping-bag. 

But few things on earth are more exasperating than trying to workmounted on clumsy, long web-feet that keep jarring against, yet holdingyou off from, the tree you are felling, or the fire you are cookingover. You are constrained to stand wholly out of natural relation tothe thing you are trying to do--the thing you've got to do, if you meanto come out alive. 

The Colonel had been through all this time and time again. But as hesquatted on his heels to-night, cursing the foot and a half ofsnow-shoe that held him away from the sullen fire, straining everymuscle to keep the outstretched frying-pan over the best of the blaze, he said to himself that what had got him on the raw was that speech ofthe Boy's yesterday about the stuff he had to eat. If the Boy objectedto having his rice parboiled in smoked water he was damnedunreasonable, that was all. 

The culprit reappeared at the edge of the darkening wood. He came upeagerly, and flung down an armful of fuel for the morning, hoping tofind supper ready. Since it wasn't, he knew that he mustn't stand aboutand watch the preparations. By this time he had learned a good deal ofthe trail-man's unwritten law. On no account must you hint that thecook is incompetent, or even slow, any more than he may find fault withyour moment for calling halt, or with your choice of timber. So thewoodman turned wearily away from the sole spot of brightness in thewaste, and went back up the hill in the dark and the cold, to busyhimself about his own work, even to spin it out, if necessary, till heshould hear the gruff "Grub's ready!" And when that dinner-gong sounds, don't you dally! Don't you wait a second. You may feel uncomfortable ifyou find yourself twenty minutes late for a dinner in London or NewYork, but to be five minutes late for dinner on the Winter Trail is tolay up lasting trouble. 

By the time the rice and bacon were done, and the flap-jack, still rawin the middle, was burnt to charcoal on both sides, the Colonel's eyeswere smarting, in the acrid smoke, and the tears were running down hischeeks. 

"Grub's ready!"

The Boy came up and dropped on his heels in the usual attitude. TheColonel tore a piece off the half-charred, half-raw pancake. 

"Maybe you'll think the fire isn't thoroughly distributed, but _that's_got to do for bread, " he remarked severely, as if in reply to someobjection. 

The Boy saw that something he had said or looked had beenmisinterpreted. 

"Hey? Too much fire outside, and not enough in? Well, sir, I'll trust_my_ stomach to strike a balance. Guess the heat'll get distributed allright once I've swallowed it. "

When the Colonel, mollified, said something about cinders in the rice, the Boy, with his mouth full of grit, answered: "I'm pretendin' it'ssugar. "

Not since the episode of the abandoned rifle had he shown himself sogenial. 

"Never in all my bohn life, " says the Colonel after eating steadily forsome time--"never in a year, sah, have I thought as much about food asI do in a day on this----trail. "

"Same here. "

"And it's quantity, not quality. "

"Ditto. "

The Boy turned his head sharply away from the fire. "Hear that?"

No need to ask. The Colonel had risen upright on his cramped legs, redeyes starting out of his head. The Boy got up, turned about in thedirection of the hollow sound, and made one step away from the fire. 

"You stay right where you are!" ordered the Colonel, quite in the oldway. 

"Hey?"

"That's a bird-song. "

"Thought so. "

"Mr. Wolf smelt the cookin'; want's the rest of the pack to knowthere's something queer up here on the hill. " Then, as the Boy moved toone side in the dark: "What you lookin' for?"

"My gun. "

"Mine's here. "

Oh yes! His own old 44 Marlin was lying far down the river undereight-and-fifty hours of snow. It angered him newly and more than everto remember that if he had a shot at anything now it must needs be byfavour of the Colonel. 

They listened for that sound again, the first since leaving Anvik notmade by themselves. 

"Seems a lot quieter than it did, " observed the Colonel by-and-bye. 

The Boy nodded. 

Without preface the Colonel observed: "It's five days since I washed myface and hands. "

"What's the good o' rememberin'?" returned the Boy sharply. Then moremildly: "People talk about the bare necessaries o' life. Well, sir, when they're really bare you find there ain't but three--food, warmth, sleep. "

Again in the distance that hollow baying. 

"Food, warmth, sleep, " repeated the Colonel. "We've about got down tothe wolf basis. "

He said it half in defiance of the trail's fierce lessoning; but it wastruer than he knew. 

They built up the fire to frighten off the wolves, but the Colonel hadhis rifle along when they went over and crawled into theirsleeping-bag. Half in, half out, he laid the gun carefully along theright on his snow-shoes. As the Boy buttoned the fur-lined flap downover their heads he felt angrier with the Colonel than he had ever beenbefore. 

"Took good care to hang on to his own shootin'-iron. Suppose anythingshould happen"; and he said it over and over. 

Exactly what could happen he did not make clear; the real danger wasnot from wolves, but it was _something_. And he would need a rifle.... And he wouldn't have one.... And it was the Colonel's fault. 

 * * * * *

Now, it had long been understood that the woodman is lord of the wood. When it came to the Colonel's giving unasked advice about the lumberbusiness, the Boy turned a deaf ear, and thought well of himself fornot openly resenting the interference. 

"The Colonel talks an awful lot, anyway. He has more hot air to offerthan muscle. "

When they sighted timber that commended itself to the woodman, if _he_thought well of it, why, he just dropped the sled-rope without a word, pulled the axe out of the lashing, trudged up the hillside, holding theaxe against his shirt underneath his parki, till he reached whatevertree his eye had marked for his own. Off with the fur mitt, and barehand protected by the inner mitt of wool, he would feel the axe-head, for there was always the danger of using it so cold that the steelwould chip and fly. As soon as he could be sure the proper molecularchange had been effected, he would take up his awkward attitude beforethe selected spruce, leaning far forward on his snow-shoes, and seemingto deliver the blows on tip-toe. 

But the real trouble came when, after felling the dead tree, splittingan armful of fuel and carrying it to the Colonel, he returned to thetask of cutting down the tough green spruce for their bedding. Manystrained blows must be delivered before he could effect the chopping ofeven a little notch. Then he would shift his position and cut acorresponding notch further round, so making painful circuit of thebole. To-night, what with being held off by his snow-shoes, what withutter weariness and a dulled axe, he growled to himself that he was"only gnawin' a ring round the tree like a beaver!"

"Damn the whole--Wait!" Perhaps the cursed snow was packed enough nowto bear. He slipped off the web-feet, and standing gingerly, butblessedly near, made effectual attack. Hooray! One more good 'un andthe thing was down. Hah! ugh! Woof-ff! The tree was down, but so washe, floundering breast high, and at every effort to get out onlybreaking down more of the crust and sinking deeper. 

This was not the first time such a thing had happened. Why did he feelas if it was for him the end of the world? He lay still an instant. Itwould be happiness just to rest here and go to sleep. The Colonel! Oh, well, the Colonel had taken his rifle. Funny there should beorange-trees up here. He could smell them. He shut his eyes. Somethingshone red and glowing. Why, that was the sun making an effect ofstained glass as it shone through the fat pine weather-boarding of hislittle bedroom on the old place down in Florida. Suddenly a face. _Ah, that face!_ He must be up and doing. He knew perfectly well how to getout of this damn hole. You lie on your side and roll. Gradually youpack the softness tight till it bears--not if you stand up on yourfeet, but bears the length of your body, while you worm your wayobliquely to the top, and feel gingerly in the dimness after yoursnow-shoes. 

But if it happens on a pitch-dark night, and your pardner has chosencamp out of earshot, you feel that you have looked close at the end ofthe Long Trail. 

On getting back to the fire, he found the Colonel annoyed at havingcalled "Grub!" three times--"yes, sah! three times, sah!"

And they ate in silence. 

"Now I'm going to bed, " said the Boy, rising stiffly. 

"You just wait a minute. "

"No. "

Now, the Colonel himself had enunciated the law that whenever one ofthem was ready to sleep the other must come too. He didn't know it, butit is one of the iron rules of the Winter Trail. In absence of itsenforcement, the later comer brings into the warmed up sleeping-bag notonly the chill of his own body, he lets in the bitter wind, and bringsalong whatever snow and ice is clinging to his boots and clothes. Themelting and warming-up is all to be done again. 

But the Colonel was angry. 

"Most unreasonable, " he muttered--"damned unreasonable!"

Worse than the ice and the wet in the sleeping-bag, was this lying insuch close proximity to a young jackanapes who wouldn't come when youcalled "Grub!" and wouldn't wait a second till you'd felt about in thedimness for your gun. Hideous to lie so close to a man who snored, andwho'd deprived you of your 44 Marlin. Although it meant life, the Boygrudged the mere animal heat that he gave and that he took. Full ofgrudging, he dropped asleep. But the waking spirit followed him intohis dreams. An ugly picture painted itself upon the dark, andstruggling against the vision, he half awoke. With the first returningconsciousness came the oppression of the yoke, the impulse to match themental alienation with that of the body--strong need to move away. 

You can't move away in a sleeping-bag. 

In a city you may be alone, free. 

On the trail, you walk in bonds with your yoke-fellow, make your bedwith him, with him rise up, and with him face the lash the livelongday. 

 * * * * *

"Well, " sighed the Colonel, after toiling onward for a couple of hoursthe next morning, "this is the worst yet. "

But by the middle of the afternoon, "What did I say? Why, thismorning--_everything_ up till now has been child's play. " He keptlooking at the Boy to see if he could read any sign of halt in thetense, scarred face. 

Certainly the wind was worse, the going was worse. The sled keptbreaking through and sinking to the level of the load. There it went!in again. They tugged and hauled, and only dragged the lashing loose, while the sled seemed soldered to the hard-packed middle of the drift. As they reloaded, the thermometer came to light. The Colonel threw itout, with never a word. They had no clothes now but what they stood in, and only one thing on the sled they could have lived without--theirmoney, a packet of trading stores. But they had thrown away more thanthey knew. Day by day, not flannels and boots alone, not merely extrakettle, thermometer and gun went overboard, but some grace of courtesy, some decency of life had been left behind. 

About three o'clock of this same day, dim with snow, and dizzy in ahurricane of wind, "We can't go on like this, " said the Boy suddenly. 

"Wish I knew the way we _could_ go on, " returned the Colonel, stoppingwith an air of utter helplessness, and forcing his rigid hands into hispockets. The Boy looked at him. The man of dignity and resource, whohad been the boss of the Big Chimney Camp--what had become of him? Herewas only a big, slouching creature, with ragged beard, smoke-blackenedcountenance, and eyes that wept continually. 

"Come on, " said his equally ruffianly-looking pardner, "we'll both goahead. "

So they abandoned their sled for awhile, and when they had forged away, came back, and one pulling, the other pushing, lifting, guiding, between them, with infinite pains they got their burden to the end ofthe beaten track, left it, and went ahead again--travelling three milesto make one. 

"What's the matter now?"

The Boy was too tired to turn his head round and look back, but he knewthat the other man wasn't doing his share. He remembered that othertime when the Colonel had fallen behind. It seemed years ago, and evenfurther away was the vague recollection of how he'd cared. How horriblyfrightened he'd been! Wasn't he frightened now? No. It was only a dullcuriosity that turned him round at last to see what it was that madethe Colonel peg out this time. He was always peggin' out. Yes, there hewas, stoppin' to stroke himself. Trail-man? An old woman! Fit only forthe chimney-corner. And even when they went on again he kept saying tohimself as he bent to the galling strain, "An old woman--just an oldwoman!" till he made a refrain of the words, and in the level placesmarched to the tune. After that, whatever else his vague thought wentoff upon, it came back to "An old woman--just an old woman!"

It was at a bad place towards the end of that forced march that theColonel, instead of lifting the back of the sled, bore hard on thehandle-bar. With a vicious sound it snapped. The Boy turned heavily atthe noise. When he saw the Colonel standing, dazed, with the splinteredbar in his hand, his dull eyes flashed. With sudden vigour he ran backto see the extent of the damage. 

"Well, it's pretty discouragin', " says the Colonel very low. 

The Boy gritted his teeth with suppressed rage. It was only a chancethat it hadn't happened when he himself was behind, but he couldn't seethat. No; it was the Colonel's bungling--tryin' to spare himself;leanin' on the bar instead o' liftin' the sled, as he, the Boy, wouldhave done. 

With stiff hands they tried to improvise a makeshift with a stick ofbirch and some string. 

"Don't know what you think, " says the Colonel presently, "but I callthis a desperate business we've undertaken. "

The Boy didn't trust himself to call it anything. With a bungled jobthey went lamely on. The loose snow was whirling about so, it wasimpossible to say whether it was still falling, or onlyhurricane-driven. 

To the Colonel's great indignation it was later than usual before theycamped. 

Not a word was spoken by either till they had finished their firstmeal, and the Colonel had melted a frying-pan full of snow preparatoryto the second. He took up the rice-bag, held it by the top, and ran hismittened hand down the gathered sack till he had outlined the contentsat the bottom. 

"Lord! That's all there is. "

The boy only blinked his half-shut eyes. The change in him, fromtalkativeness to utter silence, had grown horribly oppressive to theColonel. He often felt he'd like to shake him till he shook some wordsout. "I told you days ago, " he went on, "that we ought to go onrations. "

Silence. 

"But no! you knew so much better. "

The Boy shut his eyes, and suddenly, like one struggling against sleepor swooning, he roused himself. 

"I thought I knew the more we took off the damn sled the lighter it'dbe. 'Tisn't so. "

"And we didn't either of us think we'd come down from eighteen miles aday to six, " returned the Colonel, a little mollified by any sort ofanswer. "I don't believe we're going to put this job through. "

Now this was treason. 

Any trail-man may think that twenty times a day, but no one ought tosay it. The Boy set his teeth, and his eyes closed. The whole thing wassuddenly harder--doubt of the issue had been born into the world. Buthe opened his eyes again. The Colonel had carefully poured some of therice into the smoky water of the pan. What was the fool doing? Such alittle left, and making a second supper?

Only that morning the Boy had gone a long way when mentally he calledthe boss of the Big Chimney Camp "an old woman. " By night he was sayingin his heart, "The Colonel's a fool. " His pardner caught the look thatmatched the thought. 

"No more second helpin's, " he said in self-defence; "this'll freezeinto cakes for luncheon. "

No answer. No implied apology for that look. In the tone his pardnerhad come to dread the Colonel began: "If we don't strike a settlementto-morrow----"

"Don't _talk!"_

The Boy's tired arm fell on the handle of the frying-pan. Over itwent--rice, water, and all in the fire. The culprit sprang upspeechless with dismay, enraged at the loss of the food he was hungryfor--enraged at "the fool fry-pan"--enraged at the fool Colonel forbalancing it so badly. 

A column of steam and smoke rose into the frosty air between the twomen. As it cleared away a little the Boy could see the Colonel'sbloodshot eyes. The expression was ill to meet. 

When they crouched down again, with the damped-out fire between them, asense of utter loneliness fell upon each man's heart. 

 * * * * *

The next morning, when they came to digging the sled out of the lastnight's snow-drift, the Boy found to his horror that he wasweaker--yes, a good deal. As they went on he kept stumbling. TheColonel fell every now and then. Sometimes he would lie still before hecould pull himself on his legs again. 

In these hours they saw nothing of the grim and splendid waste; nothingof the ranks of snow-laden trees; nothing of sun course or of stars, only the half-yard of dazzling trail in front of them, and--clairvoyant--the little store of flour and bacon that seemed toshrink in the pack while they dragged it on. 

Apart from partial snow-blindness, which fell at intervals upon theColonel, the tiredness of the eyes was like a special sickness uponthem both. For many hours together they never raised their lids, looking out through slits, cat-like, on the world. 

They had not spoken to each other for many days--or was it onlyhours?--when the Colonel, looking at the Boy, said:

"You've got to have a face-guard. Those frostbites are eating in. "

"'Xpect so. "

"You ought to stop it. Make a guard. "

"Out of a snow-ball, or chunk o' ice?"

"Cut a piece out o' the canvas o' the bag. " But he didn't. 

The big sores seemed such small matters beside the vast overshadowingdoubt, Shall we come out of this alive?--doubt never to be openlyadmitted by him, but always knocking, knocking----

"You can't see your own face, " the Colonel persisted. 

"One piece o' luck, anyhow. "

The old habit of looking after the Boy died hard. The Colonelhesitated. For the last time he would remonstrate. "I used to thinkfrost_bite_ was a figure o' speech, " said he, "but the teeth were setin _your_ face, sonny, and they've bitten deep; they'll leave awfulscars. "

"Battles do, I b'lieve. " And it was with an effort that he rememberedthere had been a time when they had been uncomfortable because theyhadn't washed their faces. Now, one man was content to let the veryskin go if he could keep the flesh on his face, and one was littleconcerned even for that. Life--life! To push on and come out alive. 

The Colonel had come to that point where he resented the Boy's stayingpower, terrified at the indomitable young life in him. Yes, the Colonelbegan to feel old, and to think with vague wrath of the insolence ofyouth. 

Each man fell to considering what he would do, how he would manage ifhe were alone. And there ceased to be any terror in the thought. 

"If it wasn't for him"--so and so; till in the gradual deadening ofjudgment all the hardship was somehow your pardner's fault. Your nervesmade him responsible even for the snow and the wind. By-and-by he wasThe Enemy. Not but what each had occasional moments of lucidity, anddrew back from the pit they were bending over. But the realisationwould fade. No longer did even the wiser of the two remember that thisis that same abyss out of which slowly, painfully, the race hasclimbed. With the lessened power to keep from falling in, the terror ofit lessened. Many strange things grew natural. It was no longerdifficult or even shocking to conceive one's partner giving out andfalling by the way. Although playing about the thought, the one thingthat not even the Colonel was able actually to realise, was theimminent probability of death for himself. Imagination always picturedthe other fellow down, one's self somehow forging ahead. 

This obsession ended on the late afternoon when the Colonel brokesilence by saying suddenly:

"We must camp; I'm done. " He flung himself down under a bare birch, andhid his face. 

The Boy remonstrated, grew angry; then, with a huge effort atself-control, pointed out that since it had stopped snowing this wasthe very moment to go on. 

"Why, you can see the sun. Three of 'em! Look, Colonel!"

But Arctic meteorological phenomena had long since ceased to interestthe Kentuckian. Parhelia were less to him than covered eyes, and theperilous peace of the snow. It seemed a long time before he sat up, andbegan to beat the stiffness out of his hands against his breast. Butwhen he spoke, it was only to say:

"I mean to camp. "

"For how long?"

"Till a team comes by--or something. "

The Boy got up abruptly, slipped on his snow-shoes, and went round theshoulder of the hill, and up on to the promontory, to get out ofearshot of that voice, and determine which of the two ice-roads, stretching out before them, was main channel and which was tributary. 

He found on the height only a cutting wind, and little enlightenment asto the true course. North and east all nimbus still. A brace ofsun-dogs following the pale God of Day across the narrow field ofprimrose that bordered the dun-coloured west. There would be more snowto-morrow, and meanwhile the wind was rising again. Yes, sir, it was amean outlook. 

As he took Mac's aneroid barometer out of his pocket, a sudden gust cutacross his raw and bleeding cheek. He turned abruptly; the barometerslipped out of his numb fingers. He made a lunge to recover it, clutched the air, and, sliding suddenly forward, over he went, flyingheadlong down the steep escarpment. 

He struck a jutting rock, only half snowed under, that broke the sheerface of the promontory, and he bounded once like a rubber ball, strucka second time, caught desperately at a solitary clump of ice-sheathedalders, crashed through the snow-crust just below them, and was heldthere like a mudlark in its cliff nest, halfway between bluff andriver. 

His last clear thought had been an intense anxiety about his snow-shoesas they sailed away, two liberated kites, but as he went on falling, clutching at the air--falling--and felt the alder twigs snap under hishands, he said to himself, "This is death, " but calmly, as if it were asmall matter compared to losing one's snow-shoes. 

It was only when he landed in the snow, that he was conscious of any ofthe supposed natural excitement of a man meeting a violent end. It wasthen, before he even got his breath back, that he began to strugglefrantically to get a foothold; but he only broke down more of the thinice-wall that kept him from the sheer drop to the river, sixty orseventy feet below. He lay quite still. Would the Colonel come afterhim? If he did come, would he risk his life to----If he did risk hislife, was it any use to try to----He craned his neck and looked up, blinked, shut his eyes, and lay back in the snow with a sound offar-off singing in his head. "Any use?" No, sir; it just about wasn't. That bluff face would be easier to climb up than to climb down, andeither was impossible. 

Then it was, that a great tide of longing swept over him--a flood ofpassionate desire for more of this doubtful blessing, life. All thebitter hardship--why, how sweet it was, after all, to battle and toovercome! It was only this lying helpless, trapped, that was evil. Theendless Trail? Why, it was only the coming to the end that a manminded. 

Suddenly the beauty that for days had been veiled shone out. Nothing inall the earth was glorious with the glory of the terrible white North. And he had only just been wakened to it. Here, now, lying in his grave, had come this special revelation of the rapture of living, and thesplendour of the visible universe. 

The sky over his head--he had called it "a mean outlook, " and turnedaway. It was the same sky that bent over him now with a tenderness thatmade him lift his cramped arms with tears, as a sick child might to itsmother. The haloed sun with his attendant dogs--how little the wonderhad touched him! Never had he seen them so dim and sad as to-night ... Saying good-bye to one who loved the sun. 

The great frozen road out of sight below, road that came winding, winding down out of the Arctic Circle--what other highway so majestic, mysterious?--shining and beckoning on. An earthly Milky Way, leading tothe golden paradise he had been travelling towards since summer. 

And he was to go no further?--not till the June rains and thaws andwinds and floods should carry him back, as he had foreseen, far belowthere at Holy Cross. 

With a sharp contraction of the heart he shut his eyes again. When heopened them they rested on the alder-twig, a couple of yards above, holding out mocking finger-tips, and he turned his head in the snowtill again he could see the mock-suns looking down. 

"As well try to reach the sky as reach the alder-bush. What did thatmean? That he was really going to lie there till he died? _He_ die, andthe Colonel and everybody else go on living?"

He half rose on his elbow at the monstrous absurdity of the idea. "Iwon't die!" he said out loud. 

Crack, crack! warned the ice-crust between him and that long fall tothe river. With horror at his heart he shrank away and hugged the faceof the precipice. Presently he put out his hand and broke the ice-crustabove. With mittened fists and palms he pounded firm a little ledge ofsnow. Reaching out further, he broke the crust obliquely just above, and having packed the snow as well as he could immediately about, andmoving lengthwise with an infinite caution, he crawled up the fewinches to the narrow ledge, balancing his stiff body with a nicetypossible only to acrobat or sleep-walker. 

It was in no normal state of ordinary waking senses that the work wenton--with never a downward look, nor even up, eyes riveted to the patchof snow on which the mittened hands fell as steady and untrembling assteel hammers. In the seconds of actual consciousness of his situationthat twice visited him, he crouched on the ledge with closed eyes, inthe clutch of an overmastering horror, absolutely still, like a bird inthe talons of a hawk. Each time when he opened his eyes he would stareat the snow-ledge till hypnotised into disregard of danger, balance hisslight body, lift one hand, and go on pounding firm another shallowstep. When he reached the alder-bush his heart gave a great leap oftriumph. Then, for the first time since starting, he looked up. Hisheart fell down. It seemed farther than ever, and the light waning. 

But the twilight would be long, he told himself, and in that other, beneficent inner twilight he worked on, packing the snow, and crawlinggingerly up the perilous stair a half-inch at a time. 

At last he was on the jutting rock, and could stand secure. But here hecould see that the top of the bluff really did shelve over. To think sois so common an illusion to the climber that the Boy had heartenedhimself by saying, when he got there he would find it like the rest, horribly steep, but not impossible. Well, it _was_ impossible. Afterall his labour, he was no better off on the rock than in the snow-holebelow the alder, down there where he dared not look. The sun and hisdogs had travelled down, down. They touched the horizon while he satthere; they slipped below the world's wide rim. He said in his heart, "I'm freezing to death. " Unexpectedly to himself his despair foundvoice:

"Colonel!"

"Hello!"

He started violently. 

Had he really heard that, or was imagination playing tricks with echo?

"Colonel!"

"Where the devil----"

A man's head appeared out of the sky. 

"Got the rope?"

Words indistinguishable floated down--the head withdrawn--silence. TheBoy waited a very long time, but he stamped his feet, and kept hisblood in motion. The light was very grey when the head showed again atthe sky-line. He couldn't hear what was shouted down, and it occurredto him, even in his huge predicament, that the Colonel was "giving himhot air" as usual, instead of a life-line. Down the rope came, nearer, and stopped about fifteen feet over his head. 

"Got the axe? Let her down. "

 * * * * *

The night was bright with moonlight when the Boy stood again on the topof the bluff. 

"Humph!" says the Colonel, with agreeable anticipation; "you'll be gladto camp for a few days after this, I reckon. "

"Reckon I won't. "

 * * * * *

In their colossal fatigue they slept the clock round; their watches rundown, their sense of the very date blurred. Since the Colonel had madethe last laconic entry in the journal--was it three days or two--ortwenty?

In spite of a sensation as of many broken bones, the Boy put on theColonel's snow-shoes, and went off looking along the foot of the clifffor his own. No luck, but he brought back some birch-bark and a handfulof willow-withes, and set about making a rude substitute. 

Before they had despatched breakfast the great red moon arose, so itwas not morning, but evening. So much the better. The crust would befirmer. The moon was full; it was bright enough to travel, and travelthey must. 

"No!" said the Colonel, with a touch of his old pompous authority, "we'll wait awhile. "

The Boy simply pointed to the flour-bag. There wasn't a good handfulleft. 

They ate supper, studiously avoiding each other's eyes. In thebackground of the Boy's mind: "He saved my life, but he ran no risk.... And I saved his. We're quits. " In the Colonel's, vague, insistent, stirred the thought, "I might have left him there to rot, half-way upthe precipice. Oh, he'd go! _And he'd take the sled_! No!" His vanishedstrength flowed back upon a tide of rage. Only one sleeping-bag, onekettle, one axe, one pair of snow-shoes ... _one gun_! No, by theliving Lord! not while I have a gun. Where's my gun? He looked aboutguiltily, under his lowered lids. What? No! Yes! It was gone! Whopacked at the last camp? Why, he--himself, and he'd left it behind. "Then it was because I didn't see it; the Boy took care I shouldn't seeit! Very likely he buried it so that I shouldn't see it! He--yes--if Irefuse to go on, he----"

And the Boy, seeing without looking, taking in every move, every shadein the mood of the broken-spirited man, ready to die here, like a dog, in the snow, instead of pressing on as long as he could crawl--the Boy, in a fever of silent rage, called him that "meanest word in thelanguage--a quitter. " And as, surreptitiously, he took in the vastdiscouragement of the older man, there was nothing in the Boy's changedheart to say, "Poor fellow! if he can't go on, I'll stay and die withhim"; but only, "He's _got_ to go on! ... And if he refuses ... Well----" He felt about in his deadened brain, and the best he couldbring forth was: "I won't leave him--_yet_. "

 * * * * *

A mighty river-jam had forced them up on the low range of hills. It wasabout midnight to judge by the moon--clear of snow and the wind down. The Boy straightened up at a curious sight just below them. Somethingblack in the moonlight. The Colonel paused, looked down, and passed hishand over his eyes. 

The Boy had seen the thing first, and had said to himself, "Looks likea sled, but it's a vision. It's come to seeing things now. "

When he saw the Colonel stop and stare, he threw down his rope andbegan to laugh, for there below were the blackened remains of a bigfire, silhouetted sharply on the snow. 

"Looks like we've come to a camp, Boss!"

He hadn't called the Colonel by the old nickname for many a day. Hestood there laughing in an idiotic kind of way, wrapping his stiffhands in his parki, Indian fashion, and looking down to the level ofthe ancient river terrace, where the weather-stained old Indian sledwas sharply etched on the moonlit whiteness. 

Just a sled lying in the moonlight. But the change that can be wroughtin a man's heart upon sight of a human sign! it may be idle to speak ofthat to any but those who have travelled the desolate ways of theNorth. 

Side by side the two went down the slope, slid and slipped and couldn'tstop themselves, till they were below the landmark. Looking up, theysaw that a piece of soiled canvas or a skin, held down with adrift-log, fell from under the sled, portière-wise from the top of theterrace, straight down to the sheltered level, where the camp fire hadbeen. Coming closer, they saw the curtain was not canvas, but dresseddeerskin. 

"Indians!" said the Colonel. 

But with the rubbing out of other distinctions this, too, was curiouslyfaint. Just so there were human beings it seemed enough. Within fourfeet of the deerskin door the Colonel stopped, shot through by a sharpmisgiving. What was behind? A living man's camp, or a dead man's tomb?Succour, or some stark picture of defeat, and of their own oncomingdoom?

The Colonel stood stock-still waiting for the Boy. For the first timein many days even he hung back. He seemed to lack the courage to be theone to extinguish hope by the mere drawing of a curtain from asnow-drift's face. The Kentuckian pulled himself together and wentforward. He lifted his hand to the deerskin, but his fingers shook sohe couldn't take hold:

"Hello!" he called. No sound. Again: "Hello!"

"Who's there?"

The two outside turned and looked into each other's faces--but if youwant to know all the moment meant, you must travel the Winter Trail. 

CHAPTER XIV

KURILLA

"And I swear to you Athenians--by the dog I swear!--for I must tell youthe truth----. "--SOCRATES. 

The voice that had asked the question belonged to one of two strandedKlondykers, as it turned out, who had burrowed a hole in the snow andfaced it with drift-wood. They had plenty of provisions, enough tospare, and meant to stay here till the steamers ran, for the younger ofthe pair had frosted his feet and was crippled. 

The last of their dogs had been frozen to death a few miles back on thetrail, and they had no idea, apparently, how near they were to that"first Indian settlement this side of Kaltag" reached by the Coloneland the Boy after two days of rest and one day of travel. 

No one ever sailed more joyfully into the Bay of Naples, or saw withkeener rapture Constantinople's mosques and minarets arise, than didthese ice-armoured travellers, rounding the sharp bend in the river, sight the huts and hear the dogs howl on the farther shore. 

"First thing I do, sah, is to speculate in a dog-team, " said theColonel. 

Most of the bucks were gone off hunting, and most of the dogs were withthem. Only three left in the village--but they were wonderful fellowsthose three! Where were they? Well, the old man you see before you, "_me_--got two. "

He led the way behind a little shack, a troop of children following, and there were two wolf-dogs, not in the best condition, one reddish, with a white face and white forelegs, the other grey with a blacksplotch on his chest and a white one on his back. 

"How much?"

"Fiftee dolla. "

"And this one?"

"Fiftee dolla. " As the Colonel hesitated, the old fellow added: "Bohfeightee dolla. "

"Oh, eightee for the two?"

He nodded. 

"Well, where's the other?"

"Hein?"

"The other--the third dog. Two are no good. "

"Yes. Yes, " he said angrily, "heap good dog. "

"Well, I'll give you eighty dollars for these" (the Ingalik, taking apipe out of his parki, held out one empty hand); "but who's got theother?"

For answer, a head-shake, the outstretched hand, and the words, "Eightee dolla--tabak--tea. "

"Wait, " interrupted the Boy, turning to the group of children; "where'sthe other dog?"

Nobody answered. The Boy pantomimed. "We want _three_ dogs. " He held upas many fingers. "We got two--see?--must have one more. " A lad of aboutthirteen turned and began pointing with animation towards a slowlyapproaching figure. 

"Peetka--him got. "

The old man began to chatter angrily, and abuse the lad for introducinga rival on the scene. The strangers hailed the new-comer. 

"How much is your dog?"

Peetka stopped, considered, studied the scene immediately before him, and then the distant prospect. 

"You got dog?"

He nodded. 

"Well, how much?"

"Sixty dolla. "

"_One_ dog, sixty?"

He nodded. 

"But this man says the price is eighty for two. "

"My dog--him Leader. "

After some further conversation, "Where is your dog?" demanded theColonel. 

The new-comer whistled and called. After some waiting, andwell-simulated anger on the part of the owner, along comes a duskySiwash, thin, but keen-looking, and none too mild-tempered. 

The children all brightened and craned, as if a friend, or at least ahighly interesting member of the community, had appeared on the scene. 

"The Nigger's the best!" whispered the Boy. 

"Him bully, " said the lad, and seemed about to pat him, but the Siwashsnarled softly, raising his lip and showing his Gleaming fangs. The ladstepped back respectfully, but grinned, reiterating, "Bully dog. "

"Well, I'll give you fifty for him, " said the Colonel. 

"Sixty. "

"Well, all right, since he's a leader. Sixty. "

The owner watched the dog as it walked round its master smelling thesnow, then turning up its pointed nose interrogatively and waving itsmagnificent feathery tail. The oblique eyes, acute angle of his shortears, the thick neck, broad chest, and heavy forelegs, gave animpression of mingled alertness and strength you will not see surpassedin any animal that walks the world. Jet-black, except for his greymuzzle and broad chest, he looks at you with the face of his nearancestor, the grizzled wolf. If on short acquaintance you offer anyfamiliarity, as the Colonel ventured to do, and he shows his double rowof murderous-looking fangs, the reminder of his fierce forefathers iseven more insistent. Indeed, to this day your Siwash of this sort willhave his moments of nostalgia, in which he turns back to his wildkinsfolk, and mates again with the wolf. 

When the Leader looked at the Colonel with that indescribably horridsmile, the owner's approval of the proud beast seemed to overcome hisavarice. 

"Me no sell, " he decided abruptly, and walked off in lordly fashionwith his dusky companion at his side, the Leader curling his featherytail arc-like over his back, and walking with an air princes mightenvy. 

The Colonel stood staring. Vainly the Boy called, "Come back. Lookhere! Hi!" Neither Siwash nor Ingalik took the smallest notice. The Boywent after them, eliciting only airs of surly indifference and repeated"Me no sell. " It was a bitter disappointment, especially to the Boy. Heliked the looks of that Nigger dog. When, plunged in gloom, he returnedto the group about the Colonel, he found his pardner asking about"feed. " No, the old man hadn't enough fish to spare even a few days'supply. Would anybody here sell fish? No, he didn't think so. All themen who had teams were gone to the hills for caribou; there was nobodyto send to the Summer Caches. He held out his hand again for the firstinstalment of the "eightee dolla, " in kind, that he might put it in hispipe. 

"But dogs are no good to us without something to feed 'em. "

The Ingalik looked round as one seeking counsel. 

"Get fish tomalla. "

"No, sir. To-day's the only day in my calendar. No buy dogs till we getfish. "

When the negotiations fell through the Indian took the failure far morephilosophically than the white men, as was natural. The old fellowcould quite well get on without "eightee dolla"--could even get onwithout the tobacco, tea, sugar, and matches represented by that sum, but the travellers could not without dogs get to Minóok. It had beenvery well to feel set up because they had done the thing that everybodysaid was impossible. It had been a costly victory. Yes, it had comehigh. "And, after all, if we don't get dogs we're beaten. "

"Oh, beaten be blowed! We'll toddle along somehow. "

"Yes, we'll toddle along _if_ we get dogs. "

And the Boy knew the Colonel was right. 

They inquired about Kaltag. 

"I reckon we'd better push ahead while we can, " said the Colonel. Sothey left the camp that same evening intending to "travel with themoon. " The settlement was barely out of sight when they met a squawdragging a sled-load of salmon. Here was luck! "And now we'll go backand get those two dogs. "

As it was late, and trading with the natives, even for a fish, was amatter of much time and patience, they decided not to hurry the dogdeal. It was bound to take a good part of the evening, at any rate. Well, another night's resting up was welcome enough. 

While the Colonel was re-establishing himself in the best cabin, theBoy cached the sled and then went prowling about. As he fully intended, he fell in with the Leader--that "bully Nigger dog. " His master not insight--nobody but some dirty children and the stranger there to see howthe Red Dog, in a moment of aberration, dared offer insolence to theLeader. It all happened through the Boy's producing a fish, andpresenting it on bended knee at a respectful distance. The Leaderbestowed a contemptuous stare upon the stranger and pointedly turnedhis back. The Red Dog came "loping" across the snow. As he made for thefish the Leader quietly headed him off, pointed his sharp ears, andjust looked the other fellow out of countenance. Red said things underhis breath as he turned away. The more he thought the situation overthe more he felt himself outraged. He looked round over his shoulder. There they still were, the stranger holding out the fish, the Leaderturning his back on it, but telegraphing Red at the same time _not todare!_ It was more than dog-flesh could bear; Red bounded back, exploding in snarls. No sound out of the Leader. Whether this unnaturalcalm misled Red, he came up closer, braced his forelegs, and thrust histawny muzzle almost into the other dog's face, drew back his lips fromall those shining wicked teeth, and uttered a muffled hiss. 

Well, it was magnificently done, and it certainly looked as if theLeader was going to have a troubled evening. But he didn't seem tothink so. He "fixed" the Red Dog as one knowing the power of themaster's eye to quell. Red's reply, unimaginably bold, was, as the Boydescribed it to the Colonel, "to give the other fella the curse. " TheBoy was proud of Red's pluck--already looking upon him as his own--buthe jumped up from his ingratiating attitude, still grasping the driedfish. It would be a shame if that Leader got chewed up! And there wasRed, every tooth bared, gasping for gore, and with each passing secondseeming to throw a deeper damnation into his threat, and to bracehimself more firmly for the hurling of the final doom. 

At that instant, the stranger breathing quick and hard, the elderchildren leaning forward, some of the younger drawing back interror--if you'll believe it, the Leader blinked in a bored way, andsat down on the snow. A question only of last moments now, poor brute!and the bystanders held their breath. But no! Red, to be sure, brokeinto the most awful demonstrations, and nearly burst himself with fury;but he backed away, as though the spectacle offered by the Leader weretoo disgusting for a decent dog to look at. He went behind the shackand told the Spotty One. In no time they were back, approaching the Boyand the fish discreetly from behind. Such mean tactics roused theLeader's ire. He got up and flew at them. They made it hot for him, butstill the Leader seemed to be doing pretty well for himself, when theold Ingalik (whom the Boy had sent a child to summon) hobbled up with araw-hide whip, and laid it on with a practised hand, separating thecombatants, kicking them impartially all round, and speaking injuriouswords. 

"Are your two hurt?" inquired the future owner anxiously. 

The old fellow shook his head. 

"Fur thick, " was the reassuring answer; and once more the Boy realisedthat these canine encounters, though frequently ending in death, oftenlook and sound much more awful than they are. 

As the Leader feigned to be going home, he made a dash in passing atthe stranger's fish. It was held tight, and the pirate got off withonly a fragment. Leader gave one swallow and looked back to see how thetheft was being taken. That surprising stranger simply stood therelaughing, and holding out the rest of a fine fat fish! Leaderconsidered a moment, looked the alien up and down, came back, all onguard for sudden rushes, sly kicks, and thwackings, to pay him out. Butnothing of the kind. The Nigger dog said as plain as speech could makeit:

"You cheechalko person, you look as if you're actually offering me thatfish in good faith. But I'd be a fool to think so. "

The stranger spoke low and quietly. 

They talked for some time. 

The owner of the two had shuffled off home again, with Spotty and Redat his heels. 

The Leader came quite near, looking almost docile; but he snappedsuddenly at the fish with an ugly gleam of eye and fang. The Boy nearlymade the fatal mistake of jumping, but he controlled the impulse, andmerely held tight to what was left of the salmon. He stood quite still, offering it with fair words. The Leader walked all round him, andseemed with difficulty to recover from his surprise. The Boy felt thatthey were just coming to an understanding, when up hurries Peetka, suspicious and out of sorts. 

_"My dog!"_ he shouted. "No sell white man my dog. Huh! ho--_oh_ no!"He kicked the Leader viciously, and drove him home, abusing him all theway. The wonder was that the wolfish creature didn't fly at hismaster's throat and finish him. 

Certainly the stranger's sympathies were all with the four-legged oneof the two brutes. 

"--something about the Leader--" the Boy said sadly, telling theColonel what had happened. "Well, sir, I'd give a hundred dollars toown that dog. "

"So would I, " was the dry rejoinder, "if I were a millionaire likeyou. "

 * * * * *

After supper, their host, who had been sent out to bring in the ownerof Red and Spotty, came back saying, "He come. All come. Me tell--youfrom below Holy Cross!" He laughed and shook his head in awell-pantomimed incredulity, representing popular opinion outside. Someof the bucks, he added, who had not gone far, had got back with smallgame. 

"And dogs?"

"No. Dogs in the mountains. Hunt moose--caribou. "

The old Ingalik came in, followed by others. "Some" of the bucks? Thereseemed no end to the throng. 

Opposite the white men the Indians sat in a semicircle, with the soleintent, you might think, of staring all night at the strangers. Yetthey had brought in Arctic hares and grouse, and even a haunch ofvenison. But they laid these things on the floor beside them, and satwith grave unbroken silence till the strangers should declarethemselves. They had also brought, or permitted to follow, not onlytheir wives and daughters, but their children, big and little. 

Behind the semicircle of men, three or four deep, were ranged the ranksof youth--boys and girls from six to fourteen--standing as silent astheir elders, but eager, watchful, carrying king salmon, drieddeer-meat, boot-soles, thongs for snow-shoes, rabbits, grouse. A littlefellow of ten or eleven had brought in the Red Dog, and was trying toreconcile him to his close quarters. The owner of Red and Spotty satwith empty hands at the semicircle's farthest end. But he was thecapitalist of the village, and held himself worthily, yet not quitewith the high and mighty unconcern of the owner of the Leader. 

Peetka came in late, bringing in the Nigger dog against the Niggerdog's will, just to tantalise the white men with the sight of somethingthey couldn't buy from the poor Indian. Everybody made way for Peetkaand his dog, except the other dog. Several people had to go to theassistance of the little boy to help him to hold Red. 

"Just as well, perhaps, " said the Colonel, "that we aren't likely toget all three. "

"Oh, if they worked together they'd be all right, " answered the Boy. "I've noticed that before. " But the Leader, meanwhile, was flatlyrefusing to stay in the same room with Red. He howled and snapped andraged. So poor Red was turned out, and the little boy mourned loudly. 

Behind the children, a row of squaws against the wall, with and withoutbabies strapped at their backs. Occasionally a young girl would pushaside those in front of her, craning and staring to take in theastonishing spectacle of the two white men who had come so far withoutdogs--pulling a hand-sled a greater distance than any Indian had everdone--if they could be believed!

Anyhow, these men with their sack of tea and magnificent bundle ofmatches, above all with their tobacco--they could buy out thetown--everything except Peetka's dog. 

The Colonel and the Boy opened the ball by renewing their joint offerof eighty dollars for Red and Spotty. Although this had been the oldIngalik's own price, it was discussed fully an hour by all presentbefore the matter could be considered finally settled, even then theColonel knew it was safest not to pay till just upon leaving. But hemade a little present of tobacco in token of satisfactory arrangement. The old man's hands trembled excitedly as he pulled out his pipe andfilled it. The bucks round him, and even a couple of the women at theback, begged him for some. He seemed to say, "Do your own deal; thestrangers have plenty more. "

By-and-by, in spite of the limited English of the community, certainfacts stood out: that Peetka held the white man in avowed detestation, that he was the leading spirit of the place, that they had all beensuffering from a tobacco famine, and that much might be done by ajudicious use of Black Jack and Long Green. The Colonel set forth themagnificent generosity of which he would be capable, could he secure agood Leader. But Peetka, although he looked at his empty pipe withbitterness, shook his head. 

Everybody in the village would profit, the Colonel went on; everybodyshould have a present if--

Peetka interrupted with a snarl, and flung out low words ofcontemptuous refusal. 

The Leader waked from a brief nap cramped and uneasy, and began to howlin sympathy. His master stood up, the better to deliver a brutal kick. This seemed to help the Leader to put up with cramp and confinement, just as one great discomfort will help his betters to forget severallittle ones. But the Boy had risen with angry eyes. Very well, he saidimpulsively; if he and his pardner couldn't get a third dog (two werevery little good) they would not stock fresh meat here. In vain theColonel whispered admonition. No, sir, they would wait till they got tothe next village. 

"Belly far, " said a young hunter, placing ostentatiously in front hisbrace of grouse. 

"We're used to going belly far. Take all your game away, and go home. "

A sorrowful silence fell upon the room. They sat for some time likethat, no one so much as moving, till a voice said, "We want tobacco, "and a general murmur of assent arose. Peetka roused himself, pulled outof his shirt a concave stone and a little woody-looking knot. The Boyleaned forward to see what it was. A piece of dried fungus--the kindyou sometimes see on the birches up here. Peetka was hammering afragment of it into powder, with his heavy clasp-knife, on the concavestone. He swept the particles into his pipe and applied to one of thefish-selling women for a match, lit up, and lounged back against theLeader, smiling disagreeably at the strangers. A little laugh at theirexpense went round the room. Oh, it wasn't easy to get ahead of Peetka!But even if he chose to pretend that he didn't want cheechalko tobacco, it was very serious--it was desperate--to see all that Black Jack goingon to the next village. Several of the hitherto silent bucksremonstrated with Peetka--even one of the women dared raise her voice. She had not been able to go for fish: where was _her_ tobacco and tea?

Peetka burst into voluble defence of his position. Casting occasionallooks of disdain upon the strangers, he addressed most of his remarksto the owner of Red and Spotty. Although the Colonel could notunderstand a word, he saw the moment approaching when that person wouldgo back on his bargain. With uncommon pleasure he could have throttledPeetka. 

The Boy, to create a diversion, had begun talking to a young hunter inthe front row about "the Long Trail, " and, seeing that several otherscraned and listened, he spoke louder, more slowly, dropping out allunnecessary or unusual words. Very soon he had gained an audience andPeetka had lost one. As the stranger went on describing theirexperiences the whole room listened with an attentiveness that wouldhave been flattering had it been less strongly dashed with unbelief. From beyond Anvik they had come? Like that--with no dogs? What! Frombelow Koserefsky? Not really? Peetka grunted and shook his head. Didthey think the Ingaliks were children? Without dogs that journey wasimpossible. Low whispers and gruff exclamations filled the room. Whitemen were great liars. They pretended that in their country the baconhad legs, and could run about, and one had been heard to say he hadtravelled in a thing like a steamboat, only it could go without waterunder it--ran over the dry land on strips of iron--ran quicker than anysteamer! Oh, they were awful liars. But these two, who pretended they'ddragged a sled all the way from Holy Cross, they were the biggest liarsof all. Just let them tell that yarn to Unookuk. They all laughed atthis, and the name ran round the room. 

"Who is Unookuk?"

"Him guide. "

"Him know. "

"Where is him?" asked the Boy. 

"Him sick. "

But there was whispering and consultation. This was evidently a casefor the expert. Two boys ran out, and the native talk went on, unintelligible save for the fact that it centred round Unookuk. In afew minutes the boys came back with a tall, fine-looking native, aboutsixty years old, walking lame, and leaning on a stick. The semicircleopened to admit him. He limped over to the strangers, and stood lookingat them gravely, modestly, but with careful scrutiny. 

The Boy held out his hand. 

"How do you do?"

"How do you do?" echoed the new-comer, and he also shook hands with theColonel before he sat down. 

"Are you Unookuk?"

"Yes. How far you come?"

Peetka said something rude, before the strangers had time to answer, and all the room went into titters. But Unookuk listened with dignitywhile the Colonel repeated briefly the story already told. Plainly itstumped Unookuk. 

"Come from Anvik?" he repeated. 

"Yes; stayed with Mr. Benham. "

"Oh, Benham!" The trader's familiar name ran round the room withobvious effect. "It is good to have A. C. Agent for friend, " saidUnookuk guardedly. "Everybody know Benham. "

"He is not A. C. Agent much longer, " volunteered the Boy. 

"That so?"

"No; he will go 'on his own' after the new agent gets in this spring. "

"It is true, " answered Unookuk gravely, for the first time a littleimpressed, for this news was not yet common property. Still, they couldhave heard it from some passer with a dog-team. The Boy spoke of HolyCross, and Unookuk's grave unbelief was painted on every feature. 

"It was good you get to Holy Cross before the big storm, " he said, witha faint smile of tolerance for the white man's tall story. But Peetkalaughed aloud. 

"What good English you speak!" said the Boy, determined to make friendswith the most intelligent-appearing native he had seen. 

"Me; I am Kurilla!" said Unookuk, with a quiet magnificence. Then, seeing no electric recognition of the name, he added: "You savvyKurilla!"

The Colonel with much regret admitted that he did not. 

"But I am Dall's guide--Kurilla. "

"Oh, Dall's guide, are you, " said the Boy, without a glimmer of whoDall was, or for what, or to what, he was "guided. " "Well, Kurilla, we're pleased and proud to meet you, " adding with some presence ofmind, "And how's Dall?"

"It is long I have not hear. We both old now. I hurt my knee on the icewhen I come down from Nulato for caribou. "

"Why do you have two names?"

"Unookuk, Nulato name. My father big Nulato Shamán. Him killed, motherkilled, everybody killed in Koyukuk massacre. They forget kill me. Mekid. Russians find Unookuk in big wood. Russians give food. I stay withRussians--them call Unookuk 'Kurilla. ' Dall call Unookuk 'Kurilla. '"

"Dall--Dall, " said the Colonel to the Boy; "was that the name of theexplorer fella--"

Fortunately the Boy was saved from need to answer. 

"First white man go down Yukon to the sea, " said Kurilla with pride. "Me Dall's guide. "

"Oh, wrote a book, didn't he? Name's familiar somehow, " said theColonel. 

Kurilla bore him out. 

"Mr. Dall great man. Thirty year he first come up here with Surveypeople. Make big overland tel-ee-grab. "

"Of course. I've heard about that. " The Colonel turned to the Boy. "Itwas just before the Russians sold out. And when a lot of exploring andsurveying and pole-planting was done here and in Siberia, the Atlanticcable was laid and knocked the overland scheme sky-high. "

Kurilla gravely verified these facts. 

"And me, Dall's chief guide. Me with Dall when he make portage fromUnalaklik to Kaltag. He see the Yukon first time. He run down to befirst on the ice. Dall and the coast natives stare, like so"--Kurillamade a wild-eyed, ludicrous face--"and they say: 'It is not a river--itis another sea!'"

"No wonder. I hear it's ten miles wide up by the flats, and even alittle below where we wintered, at Ikogimeut, it's four miles acrossfrom bank to bank. "

Kurilla looked at the Colonel with dignified reproach. Why did he go onlying about his journey like that to an expert?

"Even at Holy Cross--" the Boy began, but Kurilla struck in:

"When you there?"

"Oh, about three weeks ago. "

Peetka made remarks in Ingalik. 

"Father MacManus, him all right?" asked Kurilla, politely cloaking hiscross-examination. 

"MacManus? Do you mean Wills, or the Superior, Father Brachet?"

"Oh yes! MacManus at Tanana. " He spoke as though inadvertently he hadconfused the names. As the strangers gave him the winter's news fromHoly Cross, his wonder and astonishment grew. 

Presently, "Do you know my friend Nicholas of Pymeut?" asked the Boy. 

Kurilla took his empty pipe out of his mouth and smiled in broadsurprise. "Nicholas!" repeated several others. It was plain the Pymeutpilot enjoyed a wide repute. 

The Boy spoke of the famine and Ol' Chief's illness. 

"It is true, " said Unookuk gravely, and turning, he added something inIngalik to the company. Peetka answered back as surly as ever. But theBoy went on, telling how the Shaman had cured Ol' Chief, and thatturned out to be a surprisingly popular story. Peetka wouldn'tinterrupt it, even to curse the Leader for getting up and stretchinghimself. When the dog--feeling that for some reason discipline wasrelaxed--dared to leave his cramped quarters, and come out into thelittle open space between the white men and the close-packed assembly, the Boy forced himself to go straight on with his story as if he hadnot observed the liberty the Leader was taking. When, after standingthere an instant, the dog came over and threw himself down at thestranger's feet as if publicly adopting him, the white story-tellerdared not meet Peetka's eye. He was privately most uneasy at the Niggerdog's tactless move, and he hurried on about how Brother Paul caughtthe Shamán, and about the Penitential Journey--told how, long beforethat, early in the Fall, Nicholas had got lost, making the portage fromSt. Michael's, and how the white camp had saved him from starvation;how in turn the Pymeuts had pulled the speaker out of a blow-hole; whattremendous friends the Pymeuts were with these particular, very goodsort of white men. Here he seemed to allow by implication for Peetka'sprejudice--there were two kinds of pale-face strangers--and on animpulse he drew out Muckluck's medal. He would have them to know, sohighly were these present specimens of the doubtful race regarded bythe Pymeuts--such friends were they, that Nicholas' sister had givenhim this for an offering to Yukon Inua, that the Great Spirit mighthelp them on their way. He owned himself wrong to have delayed thissacrifice. He must to-morrow throw it into the first blow-hole he cameto--unless indeed... His eye caught Kurilla's. With the help of hisstick the old Guide pulled his big body up on his one stout leg, hobbled nearer and gravely eyed Muckluck's offering as it swung to andfro on its walrus-string over the Leader's head. The Boy, quiteconscious of some subtle change in the hitherto immobile face of theIndian, laid the token in his hand. Standing there in the centre of thesemicircle between the assembly and the dog, Kurilla turned the GreatKatharine's medal over, examining it closely, every eye in the roomupon him. 

When he lifted his head there was a rustle of expectation and a craningforward. 

"It is the same. " Kurilla spoke slowly like one half in a dream. "WhenI go down river, thirty winter back, with the Great Dall, he try buythis off Nicholas's mother. She wear it on string red Russian beads. Oh, it is a thing to remember!" He nodded his grey head significantly, but he went on with the bare evidence: "When _John J. Healy_ make lasttrip down this fall--Nicholas pilot you savvy--they let him take hissister, Holy Cross to Pymeut. I see she wear this round neck. "

The weight of the medal carried the raw-hide necklace slipping throughhis fingers. Slowly now, with even impulse, the silver disc swungright, swung left, like the pendulum of a clock. Even the Nigger dogseemed hypnotised, following the dim shine of the tarnished token. 

"I say Nicholas's sister: 'It is thirty winters I see that silverpicture first; I give you two dolla for him. ' She say 'No. ' I say, 'Gi'fi' dolla. ' 'No. ' I sit and think far back--thirty winters back. 'I gi'ten dolla, ' I say. She say, 'I no sell; no--not for a hunner'--but she_give_ it him! for to make Yukon Inua to let him go safe. Hein? Savvy?"And lapsing into Ingalik, he endorsed this credential not to be denied. 

"It is true, " he wound up in English. The "Autocratrix Russorum" wassolemnly handed back. "You have make a brave journey. It is I whounnerstan'--I, too, when I am young, I go with Dall on the Long Trail. _We had dogs. _" All the while, from all about the Leader's owner, andout of every corner of the crowded room, had come a spiritedpunctuation of Kurilla's speech--nods and grunts. "Yes, perhaps _these_white men deserved dogs--even Peetka's!"

Kurilla limped back to his place, but turned to the Ingaliks before hesat down, and bending painfully over his stick, "Not Kurilla, " he said, as though speaking of one absent--"not _Dall_ make so great journey, nodogs. Kurilla? Best guide in Yukon forty year. Kurilla say: 'Must havedogs--men like that!'" He limped back again and solemnly offered hishand to each of the travellers in turn. "Shake!" says he. Then, asthough fascinated by the silver picture, he dropped down by the Boy, staring absently at the Great Katharine's effigy. The general murmurwas arrested by a movement from Peetka--he took his pipe out of hismouth and says he, handsomely:

"No liars. Sell dog, " adding, with regretful eye on the apostateLeader, "Him bully dog!"

And that was how the tobacco famine ended, and how the white men gottheir team. 

CHAPTER XV

THE ESQUIMAUX HORSE

 "Plus je connais les hommes, plus j'aime les chiens. "

It doesn't look hard to drive a dog-team, but just you try it. Inmoments of passion, the first few days after their acquisition, theColonel and the Boy wondered why they had complicated a sufficientlydifficult journey by adding to other cares a load of fish and threefiends. 

"Think how well they went for Peetka. "

"Oh yes; part o' their cussedness. They know we're green hands, andthey mean to make it lively. "

Well, they did. They sat on their haunches in the snow, and grinned atthe whip-crackings and futile "Mush, mush!" of the Colonel. Theysnapped at the Boy and made sharp turns, tying him up in the traces andtumbling him into the snow. They howled all night long, except during ablessed interval of quiet while they ate their seal-skin harness. Butman is the wiliest of the animals, and the one who profits byexperience. In the end, the Boy became a capital driver; the dogs cameto know he "meant business, " and settled into submission. "Nig, " as hecalled the bully dog for short, turned out "the best leader in theYukon. "

They were much nearer Kaltag than they had realised, arriving afteronly two hours' struggle with the dogs at the big Indian village on theleft bank of the river. But their first appearance here was clouded byNig's proposal to slay all the dogs in sight. He was no soonerunharnessed than he undertook the congenial job. It looked for a fewminutes as if Peetka's bully dog would chew up the entire caninepopulation, and then lie down and die of his own wounds. But theKaltags understood the genus Siwash better than the white man, and tookthe tumult calmly. 

It turned out that Nig was not so much bloodthirsty as"bloody-proud"--one of those high souls for ever concerned aboutsupremacy. His first social act, on catching sight of his fellow, wasto howl defiance at him. And even after they have fought it out andcome to some sort of understanding, the first happy thought of yourborn Leader on awakening is to proclaim himself boss of the camp. 

No sooner has he published this conviction of high calling than he isset upon by the others, punishes them soundly, or is himself vanquishedand driven off. Whereupon he sits on his haunches in the snow, and, with his pointed nose turned skyward, howls uninterruptedly for an houror two, when all is forgiven and forgotten--till the next time. 

Order being restored, the travellers got new harness for the dogs, newboots for themselves, and set out for the white trading post, thirtymiles above. 

Here, having at last come into the region of settlements, they agreednever again to overtax the dogs. They "travelled light" out of Nulatotowards the Koyukuk. 

The dogs simply flew over those last miles. It was glorious going on atrail like glass. 

They had broken the back of the journey now, and could well afford, they thought, to halt an hour or two on the island at the junction ofthe two great rivers, stake out a trading post, and treat themselves totown lots. Why town lots, in Heaven's name! when they were bound forMinóok, and after that the Klondyke, hundreds of miles away? Well, partly out of mere gaiety of heart, and partly, the Colonel would havetold you gravely, that in this country you never know when you have agood thing. They had left the one white layman at Nulato seething withexcitement over an Indian's report of still another rich strike upyonder on the Koyukuk, and this point, where they were solemnly stakingout a new post, the Nulato Agent had said, was "dead sure to be a greatcentre. " That almost unknown region bordering the great tributary ofthe Yukon, haunt of the fiercest of all the Indians of the North, wasto be finally conquered by the white man. It had been left practicallyunexplored ever since the days when the bloodthirsty Koyukons came downout of their fastnesses and perpetrated the great Nulato massacre, doing to death with ghastly barbarity every man, woman, and child atthe post, Russian or Indian, except Kurilla, not sparing the unluckyCaptain Barnard or his English escort, newly arrived here in theirsearch for the lost Sir John Franklin. But the tables were turned now, and the white man was on the trail of the Indian. 

While the Colonel and the Boy were staking out this future strongholdof trade and civilisation it came on to snow; but "Can't last this timeo' year, " the Colonel consoled himself, and thanked God "the big, unending snows are over for this season. "

So they pushed on. But the Colonel seemed to have thanked Godprematurely. Down the snow drifted, soft, sticky, unending. The eveningwas cloudy, and the snow increased the dimness overhead as well as theheaviness under foot. They never knew just where it was in the hoursbetween dusk and dark that they lost the trail. The Boy believed it wasat a certain steep incline that Nig did his best to rush down. 

"I thought he was at his tricks, " said the Boy ruefully some hoursafter. "I believe I'm an ass, and Nig is a gentleman and a scholar. Heknew perfectly what he was about. "

"Reckon we'll camp, pardner. "

"Reckon we might as well. "

After unharnessing the dogs, the Boy stood an instant looking enviouslyat them as he thawed out his stiff hands under his parki. Exhausted andsmoking hot, the dogs had curled down in the snow as contented-lookingas though on a hearth-rug before a fire, sheltering their sharp noseswith their tails. 

"Wish I had a tail to shelter my face, " said the Boy, as if a tail werethe one thing lacking to complete his bliss. 

"You don't need any shelter _now_, " answered the Colonel. 

"Your face is gettin' well--" And he stopped suddenly, carried back tothose black days when he had vainly urged a face-guard. He unpackedtheir few possessions, and watched the Boy take the axe and go off forwood, stopping on his way, tired as he was, to pull Nig's pointed ears. The odd thing about the Boy was that it was only with these Indiancurs--Nig in particular, who wasn't the Boy's dog at all--only withthese brute-beasts had he seemed to recover something of that buoyancyand ridiculous youngness that had first drawn the Colonel to him on thevoyage up from 'Frisco. It was also clear that if the Boy now drew awayfrom his pardner ever so little, by so much did he draw nearer to thedogs. 

He might be too tired to answer the Colonel; he was seldom too tired totalk nonsense to Nig, never too tired to say, "Well, old boy, " or even"Well, _pardner_, " to the dumb brute. It was, perhaps, this that theColonel disliked most of all. 

Whether the U. S. Agent at Nulato was justified or not in saying all theregion hereabouts was populous in the summer with Indian camps, thenative winter settlements, the half-buried ighloo, or the rude log-hut, where, for a little tea, tobacco, or sugar, you could get as much fishas you could carry, these welcome, if malodorous, places seemed, sincethey lost the trail, to have vanished off the face of the earth. Noquestion of the men sharing the dogs' fish, but of the dogs sharing themen's bacon and meal. That night the meagre supper was more meagrestill that the "horses" might have something, too. The next afternoonit stopped snowing and cleared, intensely cold, and that was theevening the Boy nearly cried for joy when, lifting up his eyes, he saw, a good way off, perched on the river bank, the huts and high caches ofan Indian village etched black against a wintry sunset--a fine picturein any eye, but meaning more than beauty to the driver of hungry dogs. 

"Fish, Nig!" called out the Boy to his Leader. "You hear me, you Nig?_Fish_, old fellow! Now, look at that, Colonel! you tell me that Indiandog doesn't understand English. I tell you what: we had a mean timewith these dogs just at first, but that was only because we didn'tunderstand one another. "

The Colonel preserved a reticent air. 

"You'll come to my way of thinking yet. The Indian dog--he's a daisy. "

"Glad you think so. " The Colonel, with some display of temper, hadgiven up trying to drive the team only half an hour before, and wasstill rather sore about it. 

"When you get to _understand_ him, " persisted the Boy, "he's the mostmarvellous little horse ever hitched in harness. He pulls, pulls, pullsall day long in any kind o' weather--"

"Yes, pulls you off your legs or pulls you the way you don't want togo. "

"Oh, that's when you rile him! He's just like any other Americangentleman: he's got his feelin's. Ain't you got feelin's, Nig? Huh!rather. I tell you what, Colonel, many a time when I'm pretty well beatand ready to snap at anybody, I've looked at Nig peggin' away like alittle man, on a rotten trail, with a blizzard in his eyes, and it'sjust made me sick after that to hear myself grumblin'. Yes, sir, theIndian dog is an example to any white man on the trail. " The Boy seemednot to relinquish the hope of stirring the tired Colonel to enthusiasm. "Don't you like the way, after the worst sort of day, when you stop, hejust drops down in the snow and rolls about a little to rest hismuscles, and then lies there as patient as anything till you are readyto unharness him and feed him?"

"--and if you don't hurry up, he saves you the trouble of unharnessingby eating the traces and things. "

"Humph! So would you if that village weren't in sight, if you were surethe harness wouldn't stick in your gizzard. And think of what a doggets to reward him for his plucky day: one dried salmon or a littlemeal-soup when he's off on a holiday like this. Works without a let-up, and keeps in good flesh on one fish a day. Doesn't even get anything todrink; eats a little snow after dinner, digs his bed, and sleeps in adrift till morning. "

"When he doesn't howl all night. "

"Oh, that's when he meets his friends, and they talk about old timesbefore they came down in the world. "

"Hey?"

"Yes; when they were wolves and made us run instead of our making them. Make any fellow howl. Instead of carrying our food about we used tocarry theirs, and run hard to keep from giving it up, too. "

"Nig's at it again, " said the Colonel. "Give us your whip. "

"No, " said the Boy; "I begin to see now why he stops and goes for Redlike that. Hah! Spot's gettin it, too, this time. They haven't beenpullin' properly. You just notice: if they aren't doin' their shareNig'll turn to every time and give 'em 'Hail, Columbia!' You'll see, when he's freshened 'em up a bit we'll have 'em on a dead run. " The Boylaughed and cracked his whip. 

"They've got keen noses. _I_ don't smell the village this time. Comeon, Nig, Spot's had enough; he's sorry, good and plenty. Cheer up, Spot! Fish, old man! You hear me talkin' to you, Red? _Fish!_ Cachesfull of it. Whoop!" and down they rushed, pell-mell, men and dogstearing along like mad across the frozen river, and never slowing tillit came to the stiff pull up the opposite bank. 

"Funny I don't hear any dogs, " panted the Boy. 

They came out upon a place silent as the dead--a big deserted village, emptied by the plague, or, maybe, only by the winter; caches emptied, too; not a salmon, not a pike, not a lusk, not even a whitefish leftbehind. 

It was a bitter blow. They didn't say anything; it was too bad to talkabout. The Colonel made the fire, and fried a little bacon and madesome mush: that was their dinner. The bacon-rinds were boiled in themush-pot with a great deal of snow and a little meal, and the "soup" soconcocted was set out to cool for the dogs. They were afraid to sleepin one of the cabins; it might be plague-infected. The Indians had cutall the spruce for a wide radius round about--no boughs to make a bed. They hoisted some tent-poles up into one of the empty caches, laid themside by side, and on this bed, dry, if hard, they found oblivion. 

The next morning a thin, powdery snow was driving about. Had they losttheir way in the calendar as well as on the trail, and was it Decemberinstead of the 29th of March? The Colonel sat on the packed sled, undoing with stiff fingers the twisted, frozen rope. He knew the axethat he used the night before on the little end of bacon was lying, pressed into the snow, under one runner. But that was the last thing togo on the pack before the lashing, and it wouldn't get lost pinned downunder the sled. Nig caught sight of it, and came over with a cheerfulair of interest, sniffed bacon on the steel, and it occurred to him itwould be a good plan to lick it. 

A bitter howling broke the stillness. The Boy came tearing up with alook that lifted the Colonel off the sled, and there was Nig trying toget away from the axe-head, his tongue frozen fast to the steel, andpulled horribly long out of his mouth like a little pink rope. The Boyhad fallen upon the agonized beast, and forced him down close to thesteel. Holding him there between his knees, he pulled off his outermits and with hands and breath warmed the surface of the axe, speakingnow and then to the dog, who howled wretchedly, but seemed tounderstand something was being done for him, since he gave upstruggling. When at last the Boy got him free, the little horse pressedagainst his friend's legs with a strange new shuddering noise verypitiful to hear. 

The Boy, blinking hard, said: "Yes, old man, I know, that was a meanbreakfast; and he patted the shaggy chest. Nig bent his proud head andlicked the rescuing hand with his bleeding tongue. 

"An' you say that dog hasn't got feelin's!"

They hitched the team and pushed on. In the absence of a trail, thebest they could do was to keep to the river ice. By-and-bye:

"Can you see the river bank?"

"I'm not sure, " said the Boy. 

"I thought you were going it blind. "

"I believe I'd better let Nig have his head, " said the Boy, stopping;"he's the dandy trail-finder. Nig, old man, I takes off my hat to you!"

They pushed ahead till the half-famished dogs gave out. They campedunder the lee of the propped sled, and slept the sleep of exhaustion. 

The next morning dawned clear and warm. The Colonel managed to get alittle wood and started a fire. There were a few spoonfuls of meal inthe bottom of the bag and a little end of bacon, mostly rind. The sortof soup the dogs had had yesterday was good enough for men to-day. Thehot and watery brew gave them strength enough to strike camp and moveon. The elder man began to say to himself that he would sell his lifedearly. He looked at the dogs a good deal, and then would look at theBoy, but he could never catch his eye. At last: "They say, you know, that men in our fix have sometimes had to sacrifice a dog. "

"Ugh!" The Boy's face expressed nausea at the thought. 

"Yes, it is pretty revolting. "

"We could never do it. "

"N-no, " said the Colonel. 

The three little Esquimaux horses were not only very hungry, their feetwere in a bad condition, and were bleeding. The Boy had shut his eyesat first at the sight of their red tracks in the snow. He hardlynoticed them now. 

An hour or so later: "Better men than we, " says the Colonelsignificantly, "have had to put their feelings in their pockets. " As ifhe found the observation distinctly discouraging, Nig at this momentsat down in the melting snow, and no amount of "mushing" moved him. 

"Let's give him half an hour's rest, Colonel. Valuable beast, youknow--altogether best team on the river, " said the Boy, as if to showthat his suggestion was not inspired by mere pity for the bleedingdogs. "And you look rather faded yourself, Colonel. Sit down and rest. "

Nothing more was said for a full half-hour, till the Colonel, takingoff his fur hat, and wiping his beaded forehead on the back of hishand, remarked: "Think of the Siege of Paris. "

"Eh? What?" The Boy stared as if afraid his partner's brain had givenway. 

"When the horses gave out they had to eat dogs, cats, rats even. Thinkof it--rats!"

"The French are a dirty lot. Let's mush, Colonel. I'm as fit as afiddle. " The Boy got up and called the dogs. In ten minutes they werefollowing the blind trail again. But the sled kept clogging, stickingfast and breaking down. After a desperate bout of ineffectual pulling, the dogs with one mind stopped again, and lay down in their bloodytracks. 

The men stood silent for a moment; then the Colonel remarked:

"Red is the least valuable"--a long pause--"but Nig's feet are in theworst condition. That dog won't travel a mile further. Well, " added theColonel after a bit, as the Boy stood speechless studying the team, "what do you say?"

"Me?" He looked up like a man who has been dreaming and is just awake. "Oh, I should say our friend Nig here has had to stand more than hisshare of the racket. "

"Poor old Nig!" said the Colonel, with a somewhat guilty air. "Lookhere: what do you say to seeing whether they can go if we help 'em withthat load?"

"Good for you, Colonel!" said the Boy, with confidence wonderfullyrestored. "I was just thinking the same. "

They unlashed the pack, and the Colonel wanted to make two bundles ofthe bedding and things; but whether the Boy really thought the Colonelwas giving out, or whether down in some corner of his mind herecognised the fact that if the Colonel were not galled by this extraburden he might feel his hunger less, and so be less prone to thoughtsof poor Nig in the pot--however it was, he said the bundle was hisbusiness for the first hour. So the Colonel did the driving, and theBoy tramped on ahead, breaking trail with thirty-five pounds on hisback. And he didn't give it up, either, though he admitted long afterit was the toughest time he had ever put in in all his life. 

"Haven't you had about enough of this?" the Colonel sang out at dusk. 

"Pretty nearly, " said the Boy in a rather weak voice. He flung off thepack, and sat on it. 

"Get up, " says the Colonel; "give us the sleepin'-bag. " When it wasundone, the Norfolk jacket dropped out. He rolled it up against thesled, flung himself down, and heavily dropped his head on the roughpillow. But he sprang up. 

"What? Yes. By the Lord!" He thrust his hand into the capacious pocketof the jacket, and pulled out some broken ship's biscuit. "Hard tack, by the living Jingo!" He was up, had a few sticks alight, and thekettle on, and was melting snow to pour on the broken biscuit. "Itswells, you know, like thunder!"

The Boy was still sitting on the bundle of "trade" tea and tobacco. Heseemed not to hear; he seemed not to see the Colonel, shakily hoveringabout the fire, pushing aside the green wood and adding a few sticks ofdry. 

There was a mist before the Colonel's eyes. Reaching after a bit ofseasoned spruce, he stumbled, and unconsciously set his foot on Nig'sbleeding paw. The dog let out a yell and flew at him. The Colonel fellback with an oath, picked up a stick, and laid it on. The Boy was onhis feet in a flash. 

"Here! stop that!" He jumped in between the infuriated man and theinfuriated dog. 

"Stand back!" roared the Colonel. 

"It was your fault; you trod--"

"Stand back, damn you! or you'll get hurt. "

The stick would have fallen on the Boy; he dodged it, callingexcitedly, "Come here, Nig! Here!"

"He's my dog, and I'll lamm him if I like. You--" The Colonel couldn'tsee just where the Boy and the culprit were. Stumbling a few paces awayfrom the glare of the fire, he called out, "I'll kill that brute if hesnaps at me again!"

"Oh yes, " the Boy's voice rang passionately out of the gloom, "I knowyou want him killed. "

The Colonel sat down heavily on the rolled-up bag. Presently thebubbling of boiling snow-water roused him. He got up, divided thebiscuit, and poured the hot water over the fragments. Then he sat downagain, and waited for them to "swell like thunder. " He couldn't seewhere, a little way up the hillside, the Boy sat on a fallen tree withNig's head under his arm. The Boy felt pretty low in his mind. He satcrouched together, with his head sunk almost to his knees. It was alonely kind of a world after all. Doing your level best didn't seem toget you any forrader. What was the use? He started. Something warm, caressing, touched his cold face just under one eye. Nig's tongue. 

"Good old Nig! You feel lonesome, too?" He gathered the rough beast upcloser to him. 

Just then the Colonel called, "Nig!"

"Sh! sh! Lie quiet!" whispered the Boy. 

"Nig! Nig!"

"Good old boy! Stay here! He doesn't mean well by you. _Sh!_ quiet!_Quiet_, I say!"

"Nig!" and the treacherous Colonel gave the peculiar whistle both menused to call the dogs to supper. The dog struggled to get away, theBoy's stiff fingers lost their grip, and "the best leader in the Yukon"was running down the bank as hard as he could pelt, to the campfire--to the cooking-pot. 

The Boy got up and floundered away in the opposite direction. He mustget out of hearing. He toiled on, listening for the expectedgunshot--hearing it, too, and the yawp of a wounded dog, in spite of amitten clapped at each ear. 

"That's the kind of world it is! Do your level best, drag other fellas'packs hundreds o' miles over the ice with a hungry belly and bloodyfeet, and then--Poor old Nig!--'cause you're lame--poor old Nig!" Witha tightened throat and hot water in his eyes, he kept on repeating thedog's name as he stumbled forward in the snow. "Nev' mind, old boy;it's a lonely kind o' world, and the right trail's hard to find. "Suddenly he stood still. His stumbling feet were on a track. He hadreached the dip in the saddle-back of the hill, and--yes! this was the_right_ trail; for down on the other side below him were faintlights--huts--an Indian village! with fish and food for everybody. AndNig--Nig was being--

The Boy turned as if a hurricane had struck him, and tore back down theincline--stumbling, floundering in the snow, calling hoarsely:"Colonel, Colonel! don't do it! There's a village here, Colonel! Nig!Colonel, don't do it!"

He dashed into the circle of firelight, and beheld Nig standing with abandaged paw, placidly eating softened biscuit out of the familyfrying-pan. 

It was short work getting down to the village. They had one king salmonand two white fish from the first Indian they saw, who wanted hootchfor them, and got only tabak. 

In the biggest of the huts, nearly full of men, women, and children, coughing, sickly-looking, dejected, the natives made room for thestrangers. When the white men had supped they handed over the remainsof their meal (as is expected) to the head of the house. This and a fewmatches or a little tobacco on parting, is all he looks for in returnfor shelter, room for beds on the floor, snow-water laboriously melted, use of the fire, and as much wood as they like to burn, even if it is abarren place, and fuel is the precious far-travelled "drift. "

It is curious to see how soon travellers get past that first cheeckalkofeeling that it is a little "nervy, " as the Boy had said, to walk intoanother man's house uninvited, an absolute stranger, and takepossession of everything you want without so much as "by your leave. "You soon learn it is the Siwash[*] custom. 

[Footnote: Siwash, corruption of French-Canadian _sauvage_, applied allover the North to the natives, their possessions and their customs. ]

Nothing would have seemed stranger now, or more inhuman, than thecivilized point of view. 

The Indians trailed out one by one, all except the old buck to whom thehut belonged. He hung about for a bit till he was satisfied thetravellers had no hootch, not even a little for the head of the house, and yet they seemed to be fairly decent fellows. Then he rolls up hisblankets, for there is a premium on sleeping-space, and goes out, withnever a notion that he is doing more than any man would, anywhere inthe world, to find a place in some neighbour's hut to pass the night. 

He leaves the two strangers, as Indian hospitality ordains, to thewarmest places in the best hut, with two young squaws, one old one, andfive children, all sleeping together on the floor, as a matter ofcourse. 

The Colonel and the Boy had flung themselves down on top of theirsleeping-bag, fed and warmed and comforted. Only the old squaw wasstill up. She had been looking over the travellers' boots and "mitts, "and now, without a word or even a look being exchanged upon thesubject, she sat there in the corner, by the dim, seal-oil light, sewing on new thongs, patching up holes, and making the strange mentidy--men she had never seen before and would never see again. Andthis, no tribute to the Colonel's generosity or the youth and friendlymanners of the Boy. They knew the old squaw would have done just thesame had the mucklucks and the mitts belonged to "the tramp of theYukon, " with nothing to barter and not a cent in his pocket. This, again, is a Siwash custom. 

The old squaw coughed and wiped her eyes. The children coughed in theirsleep. 

The dogs outside were howling like human beings put to torture. But thesound no longer had power to freeze the blood of the trail-men. 

The Colonel merely damned them. The Boy lifted his head, and listenedfor Nig's note. The battle raged nearer; a great scampering went by thetent. 

"Nig!"

A scuffling and snuffing round the bottom of the tent. The Boy, on asudden impulse, reached out and lifted the flap. 

"Got your bandage on? Come here. "

Nig brisked in with the air of one having very little time to waste. 

"Lord! I should think you'd be glad to lie down. _I_ am. Let's see yourpaw. Here, come over to the light. " He stepped very carefully over thefeet of the other inhabitants till he reached the old woman's corner. Nig, following calmly, walked on prostrate bodies till he reached hisfriend. 

"Now, your paw, pardner. F-ith! Bad, ain't it?" he appealed to thetoothless squaw. Her best friend could not have said her wizened regardwas exactly sympathetic, but it was attentive. She seemed intelligentas well as kind. 

"Look here, " whispered the Boy, "let that muckluck string o' minealone. " He drew it away, and dropped it between his knees. "Haven't yougot something or other to make some shoes for Nig? Hein?" Hepantomimed, but she only stared. "Like this. " He pulled out his knife, and cut off the end of one leg of his "shaps, " and gathered it gentlyround Nig's nearest foot. "Little dog-boots. See? Give you some bullytabak if you'll do that for Nig. Hein?"

She nodded at last, and made a queer wheezy sound, whether friendlylaughing or pure scorn, the Boy wasn't sure. But she set about thetask. 

"Come 'long, Nig, " he whispered. "You just see if I don't shoe mylittle horse. " And he sneaked back to bed, comfortable in the assurancethat the Colonel was asleep. Nig came walking after his friend straightover people's heads. 

One of the children sat up and whimpered. The Colonel growled sleepily. 

"You black devil!" admonished the Boy under his breath. "Look whatyou're about. Come here, sir. " He pushed the devil down between thesleeping-bag and the nearest baby. 

The Colonel gave a distinct grunt of disapproval, and then, "Keepin'that brute in here?"

"He's a lot cleaner than our two-legged friends, " said the Boy sharply, as if answering an insult. 

"Right, " said the Colonel with conviction. 

His pardner was instantly mollified. "If you wake another baby, you'llget a lickin', " he said genially to the dog; and then he stretched outhis feet till they reached Nig's back, and a feeling of great comfortcame over the Boy. 

"Say, Colonel, " he yawned luxuriously, "did you knowthat--a--to-night--when Nig flared up, did you know you'd trodden onhis paw?"

"Didn't know it till you told me, " growled the Colonel. 

"I thought you didn't. Makes a difference, doesn't it?"

"You needn't think, " says the Colonel a little defiantly, "that I'veweakened on the main point just because I choose to give Nig a fewcracker crumbs. If it's a question between a man's life and a dog'slife, only a sentimental fool would hesitate. "

"I'm not talking about that; we can get fish now. What I'm pointin' outis that Nig didn't fly at you for nothin'. "

"He's got a devil of a temper, that dog. "

"It's just like Nicholas of Pymeut said. " The Boy sat up, eager in hisadvocacy and earnest as a judge. "Nicholas of Pymeut said: 'You treat aSiwash like a heathen, and he'll show you what a hell of a heathen hecan be. '"

"Oh, go to sleep. "

"I'm goin', Colonel. "

CHAPTER XVI

MINÓOK

"For whatever... May come to pass, it lies with me to have it serveme. "--EPICTETUS. 

The Indians guided them back to the trail. The Colonel and the Boy madegood speed to Novikakat, laid in supplies at Korkorines, heard thefirst doubtful account of Minóok at Tanana, and pushed on. Past campsStoneman and Woodworth, where the great Klondyke Expeditions lay fastin the ice; along the white strip of the narrowing river, pent in nowbetween mountains black with scant, subarctic timber, or gray withfantastic weather-worn rock--on and on, till they reached the bluffs ofthe Lower Ramparts. 

Here, at last, between the ranks of the many-gabled heights, Big MinóokCreek meets Father Yukon. Just below the junction, perched jauntily ona long terrace, up above the frozen riverbed, high and dry, and out ofthe coming trouble when river and creek should wake--here was the long, log-built mining town, Minóok, or Rampart, for the name was stillundetermined in the spring of 1898. 

It was a great moment. 

"Shake, pardner, " said the Boy. The Colonel and he grasped hands. Onlytowering good spirits prevented their being haughty, for they felt likeconquerors, and cared not a jot that they looked like gaol-birds. 

It was two o'clock in the morning. The Gold Nugget Saloon was flaringwith light, and a pianola was perforating a tune. The travellers pushedopen a frosted door, and looked into a long, low, smoke-veiled room, hung with many kerosene lamps, and heated by a great red-hot ironstove. 

"Hello!" said a middle-aged man in mackinaws, smoking near the door-endof the bar. 

"Hello! Is Blandford Keith here? There are some letters for him. "

"Say, boys!" the man in mackinaws shouted above the pianola, "WindyJim's got in with the mail. "

The miners lounging at the bar and sitting at the faro-tables looked uplaughing, and seeing the strangers through the smoke-haze, stoppedlaughing to stare. 

"Down from Dawson?" asked the bartender hurrying forward, a magnificentcreature in a check waistcoat, shirt-sleeves, four-in-hand tie, and adiamond pin. 

"No, t'other way about. Up from the Lower River. "

"Oh! May West or Muckluck crew? Anyhow, I guess you got a thirst onyou, " said the man in the mackinaws. "Come and licker up. "

The bartender mixed the drinks in style, shooting the liquor from aheight into the small gin-sling glasses with the dexterity that hadmade him famous. 

When their tired eyes had got accustomed to the mingled smoke andglare, the travellers could see that in the space beyond the cardtables, in those back regions where the pianola reigned, there wereseveral couples twirling about--the clumsily-dressed miners pirouettingwith an astonishing lightness on their moccasined feet. And women!White women!

They stopped dancing and came forward to see the new arrivals. 

The mackinaw man was congratulating the Colonel on "gettin' back tocivilization. "

"See that plate-glass mirror?" He pointed behind the bar, below themoose antlers. "See them ladies? You've got to a place where you canrake in the dust all day, and dance all night, and go buckin' the tigerbetween whiles. Great place, Minóok. Here's luck!" He took up the lastof the gin slings set in a row before the party. 

"Have you got some property here?" asked the Boy. 

The man, without putting down his glass, simply closed one eye over therim. 

"We've heard some bad accounts of these diggin's, " said the Colonel. 

"I ain't sayin' there's millions for _every_body. You've got to get theinside track. See that feller talkin' to the girl? Billy Nebraskytipped him the wink in time to git the inside track, just before theFall Stampede up the gulch. "

"Which gulch?"

He only motioned with his head. "Through havin' that tip, he got therein time to stake number three Below Discovery. He's had to hang updrinks all winter, but he's a millionaire all right. He's got a hundredthousand dollars _in sight, _ only waitin' for runnin' water to wash itout. "

"Then there _is_ gold about here?"

"There is gold? Say, Maudie, " he remarked in a humourous half-aside tothe young woman who was passing with No--thumb-Jack, "this fellow wantsto know if there is gold here. "

She laughed. "Guess he ain't been here long. "

Now it is not to be denied that this rejoinder was susceptible of morethan one interpretation, but the mackinaw man seemed satisfied, so muchso that he offered Maudie the second gin-sling which the Colonel hadordered "all round. " She eyed the strangers over the glass. On the handthat held it a fine diamond sparkled. You would say she was twenty-six, but you wouldn't have been sure. She had seemed at least that at adistance. Now she looked rather younger. The face wore an impudentlook, yet it was delicate, too. Her skin showed very white and fineunder the dabs of rouge. The blueness was not yet faded out of herrestless eyes. 

"Minóok's all right. No josh about that, " she said, setting down herglass. Then to the Boy, "Have a dance?"

"Not much, " he replied rather roughly, and turned away to talk aboutthe diggin's to two men on the other side. 

Maudie laid her hand on the Colonel's arm, and the diamond twitched thelight. "_You_ will, " she said. 

"Well, you see, ma'am"--the Colonel's smile was charming in spite ofhis wild beard--"we've done such a lot o' dancin' lately--done nothin'else for forty days; and after seven hundred miles of it we're just atrifle tired, ma'am. "

She laughed good-naturedly. 

"Pity you're tired, " said the mackinaw man. "There's a pretty goodthing goin' just now, but it won't be goin' long. "

The Boy turned his head round again with reviving interest in his owngroup. 

"Look here, Si, " Maudie was saying: "if you want to let a lay on yournew claim to _anybody_, mind it's got to be me. "

But the mackinaw man was glancing speculatively over at another group. In haste to forestall desertion, the Boy inquired:

"Do you know of anything good that isn't staked yet?"

"Well, mebbe I don't--and mebbe I do. " Then, as if to prove that hewasn't overanxious to pursue the subject: "Say, Maudie, ain't thatFrench Charlie over there?" Maudie put her small nose in the air. "Ain't you made it up with Charlie yet?'"

"No, I ain't. "

"Then we'll have another drink all round. "

While he was untying the drawstring of his gold sack, Maudie said, half-aside, but whether to the Colonel or the Boy neither could tell:"Might do worse than keep your eye on Si McGinty. " She nodded brisklyat the violet checks on the mackinaw back. "Si's got a cinch up thereon Glory Hallelujah, and nobody's on to it yet. "

The pianola picked out a polka. The man Si McGinty had called FrenchCharlie came up behind the girl and said something. She shook her head, turned on her heel, and began circling about in the narrow space tillshe found another partner, French Charlie scowling after them, as theywhirled away between the faro-tables back into the smoke and music atthe rear. McGinty was watching Jimmie, the man at the gold scales, pinch up some of the excess dust in the scale-pan and toss it back intothe brass blower. 

"Where did that gold come from?" asked the Colonel. 

"Off a claim o' mine"; and he lapsed into silence. 

You are always told these fellows are so anxious to rope in strangers. This man didn't seem to be. It made him very interesting. The Boy actedstrictly on the woman's hint, and kept an eye on the person who had asure thing up on Glory Hallelujah. But when the lucky man next openedhis mouth it was to say:

"Why, there's Butts down from Circle City. "

"Butts?" repeated the Boy, with little affectation of interest. 

"Yep. Wonder what the son of a gun is after here. " But he spokegenially, even with respect. 

"Who's Butts?"

"Butts? Ah--well--a--Butts is the smartest fellow with his fingers inall 'laska"; and McGinty showed his big yellow teeth in an appreciativesmile. 

"Smart at washin' gold out?"

"Smarter at pickin' it out. " The bartender joined in Si's laugh as thatgentleman repeated, "Yes, sir! handiest feller with his fingers I everseen. "

"What does he do with his fingers?" asked the Boy, with impatientsuspicion. 

"Well, he don't dare do much with 'em up here. 'Tain't popular. "

"What ain't?"

"Butts's little game. But Lord! he is good at it. " Butts had beenintroduced as a stalking-horse, but there was no doubt about Si'sadmiration of his "handiness. " "Butts is wasted up here, " he sighed. "There's some chance for a murderer in Alaska, but a thief's a goner. "

"Oh, well; you were sayin' that gold o' yours came from--"

"Poor old Butts! Bright feller, too. "

"How far off is your--"

"I tell you, sir, Butts is brains to his boots. Course you know JackMcQuestion?"

"No, but I'd like to hear a little about your--"

"Y' don' know Jack McQuestion? Well, sir, Jack's the biggest man in theYukon. Why, he built Fort Reliance six miles below the mouth of theKlondyke in '73; he discovered gold on the Stewart in '85, andestablished a post there. _Everybody_ knows Jack McQuestion;an"--quickly, as he saw he was about to be interrupted--"you heardabout that swell watch we all clubbed together and give him? No? Well, sir, there ain't an eleganter watch in the world. Is there?"

"Guess not, " said the bartender. 

"Repeater, you know. Got twenty-seven di'mon's in the case. One of'em's this size. " He presented the end of a gnarled and muscular thumb. "And inside, the case is all wrote in--a lot of soft sawder; but Jackain't got _any_thing he cares for so much. You can see he's alwaystickled to death when anybody asks him the time. But do you think heever lets that watch out'n his own hands? Not _much_. Let's anybody_look_ at it, and keeps a holt o' the stem-winder. Well, sir, we wasall in a saloon up at Circle, and that feller over there--Butts--he betme fifty dollars that he'd git McQuestion's watch away from him beforehe left the saloon. An' it was late. McQuestion was thinkin' a'readyabout goin' home to that squaw wife that keeps him so straight. Well, sir, Butts went over and began to gas about outfittin', and McQuestionanswers and figures up the estimates on the counter, and, by Gawd! inless 'n quarter of an hour Butts, just standin' there and listenin', asyou'd think--he'd got that di'mon' watch off'n the chain an' had it inhis pocket. I knew he done it, though I ain't exactly seen _how_ hedone it. The others who were in the game, they swore he hadn't got ityet, but, by Gawd, Butts says he'll think over McQuestion's terms, andwonders what time it is. He takes that di'mon' watch out of his pocket, glances at it, and goes off smooth as cream, sayin' 'Good-night. ' Thenhe come a grinnin' over to us. 'Jest you go an' ask the Father o' theYukon Pioneers what time it is, will yer?' An' I done it. Well, sir, when he put his hand in his pocket, by Gawd! I wish y' could a' sawMcQuestion's face. Yes, sir, Butts is brains to his boots. "

"How far out are the diggin's?"

"What diggin's?"

"Yours. "

"Oh--a--my gulch ain't fur. "

There was a noise about the door. Someone bustled in with a torrent oftalk, and the pianola was drowned in a pandemonium of shouts andlaughter. 

"Windy Jim's reely got back!"

Everybody crowded forward. Maudie was at the Colonel's elbow explainingthat the little yellow-bearded man with the red nose was theletter-carrier. He had made a contract early in the winter to go toDawson and bring down the mail for Minóok. His agreement was to makethe round trip and be back by the middle of February. Since early Marchthe standing gag in the camp had been: "Well, Windy Jim got in lastnight. "

The mild jest had grown stale, and the denizens of Minóok had given upthe hope of ever laying eyes on Windy again, when lo! here he was withtwenty-two hundred letters in his sack. The patrons of the Gold Nuggetcrowded round him like flies round a lump of sugar, glad to pay adollar apiece on each letter he handed out. "And you take _all_ that'saddressed to yer at that price or you get none. " Every letter there hadcome over the terrible Pass. Every one had travelled twelve hundredmiles by dog-team, and some had been on the trail seven months. 

"Here, Maudie, me dear. " The postman handed her two letters. "See howhe dotes on yer. "

"Got anything fur--what's yer names?" says the mackinaw man, who seemedto have adopted the Colonel and the Boy. 

He presented them without embarrassment to "Windy Jim Wilson, of Hog'emJunction, the best trail mail-carrier in the 'nited States. "

Those who had already got letters were gathered in groups under thebracket-lights reading eagerly. In the midst of the lull ofsatisfaction or expectancy someone cried out in disgust, and anotherthrew down a letter with a shower of objurgation. 

"Guess you got the mate to mine, Bonsor, " said a bystander with alaugh, slowly tearing up the communication he had opened with fingersso eager that they shook. 

"You pay a dollar apiece for letters from folks you never heard of, asking you what you think of the country, and whether you'd advise 'emto come out. "

"Huh! don't I wish they would!"

"It's all right. _They will. _"

"And then trust Bonsor to git even. "

Salaman, "the luckiest man in camp, " who had come in from his valuableLittle Minóok property for the night only, had to pay fifteen dollarsfor his mail. When he opened it, he found he had one home letter, written seven months before, eight notes of inquiry, and sixadvertisements. 

Maudie had put her letters unopened in her pocket, and told the man atthe scales to weigh out two dollars to Windy, and charge to her. Thenshe began to talk to the Colonel. 

The Boy observed with scant patience that his pardner treated Maudiewith a consideration he could hardly have bettered had she been thefirst lady in the land. "Must be because she's little and cute-lookin'. The Colonel's a sentimental ol' goslin'. "

"What makes you so polite to that dance-hall girl?" muttered the Boyaside. "She's no good. "

"Reckon it won't make her any better for me to be impolite to her, "returned the Colonel calmly. 

But finding she could not detach the Kentuckian from his pardner, Maudie bestowed her attention elsewhere. French Charlie was leaningback against the wall, his hands jammed in his pockets, and his bigslouch-hat pulled over his brows. Under the shadow of the wide brimfurtively he watched the girl. Another woman came up and asked him todance. He shook his head. 

"Reckon we'd better go and knock up Blandford Keith and get a bed, "suggested the Boy regretfully, looking round for the man who had acinch up on Glory Hallelujah, and wouldn't tell you how to get there. 

"Reckon we'd better, " agreed the Colonel. 

But they halted near Windy Jim, who was refreshing himself, and at thesame time telling Dawson news, or Dawson lies, as the company evidentlythought. And still the men crowded round, listening greedily, just aseverybody devours certain public prints without ceasing to impeachtheir veracity. Lacking newspapers at which to pish! and pshaw! theylistened to Windy Jim, disbelieving the only unvarnished tale thatgentleman had ever told. For Windy, with the story-teller's instinct, knew marvellous enough would sound the bare recital of those awfulDawson days when the unprecedented early winter stopped the provisionboats at Circle, and starvation stared the over-populated Klondyke inthe face. 

Having disposed of their letters, the miners crowded round the courierto hear how the black business ended--matter of special interest toMinóok, for the population here was composed chiefly of men who, by theCanadian route, had managed to get to Dawson in the autumn, in theearly days of the famine scare, and who, after someone's panic-proposalto raid the great Stores, were given free passage down the river on thelast two steamers to run. 

When the ice stopped them (one party at Circle, the other at FortYukon), they had held up the supply boats and helped themselves underthe noses of Captain Ray and Lieutenant Richardson, U. S. A. 

"Yes, sir, " McGinty had explained, "we Minóok boys was all in thatpicnic. But we give our bond to pay up at mid-summer, and after the funwas over we dropped down here. "

He pushed nearer to Windy to hear how it had fared with the men who hadstayed behind in the Klondyke--how the excitement flamed and menaced;how Agent Hansen of the Alaska Commercial Company, greatest of theimporters of provisions and Arctic equipment, rushed about, half crazy, making speeches all along the Dawson River front, urging the men to flyfor their lives, back to the States or up to Circle, before the icestopped moving!

But too many of these men had put everything they had on earth intogetting here; too many had abandoned costly outfits on the awful Pass, or in the boiling eddies of the White Horse Rapids, paying any price inmoney or in pain to get to the goldfields before navigation closed. Andnow! here was Hansen, with all the authority of the A. C. , shoutingwildly: "Quick, quick! go up or down. It's a race for life!"

Windy went on to tell how the horror of the thing dulled the men, howthey stood about the Dawson streets helpless as cattle, paralysed bythe misery that had overtaken them. All very well for Hansen to try torelieve the congestion at the Klondyke--the poor devils knew that to goeither way, up or down, as late as this meant death. Then it waswhispered how Captain Constantine of the Mounted Police was gettingready to drive every man out of the Klondyke, at the point of thebayonet, who couldn't show a thousand pounds of provisions. Yet most ofthe Klondykers still stood about dazed, silent, waiting for the finalstroke. 

A few went up, over the way they had come, to die after all on thePass, and some went down, their white, despairing faces disappearinground the Klondyke bend as they drifted with the grinding ice towardsthe Arctic Circle, where the food was caught in the floes. And how onecame back, going by without ever turning his head, caring not a jot forGolden Dawson, serene as a king in his capital, solitary, stark on alittle island of ice. 

"Lord! it was better, after all, at the Big Chimney. "

"Oh, it wasn't so bad, " said Windy cheerfully. "About the time one o'the big companies announced they was sold out o' everything but sugarand axe-handles, a couple o' steamers pushed their way in through theice. After all, just as old J. J. Healy said, it was only a question ofrations and proper distribution. Why, flour's fell from one hundred andtwenty dollars a sack to fifty! And there's a big new strike on theisland opposite Ensley Creek. They call it Monte Cristo; pay runs eightdollars to the pan. Lord! Dawson's the greatest gold camp on theglobe. "

But no matter what befell at Dawson, business must be kept brisk atMinóok. The pianola started up, and Buckin' Billy, who called thedances, began to bawl invitations to the company to come and waltz. 

Windy interrupted his own music for further refreshment, pausing aninstant, with his mouth full of dried-apple pie to say:

"Congress has sent out a relief expedition to Dawson. "

"No!"

"Fact! Reindeer. "

"Ye mean peacocks. "

"Mean reindeer! It's all in the last paper come over the Pass. AReindeer Relief Expedition to save them poor starvin' Klondykers. "

"Haw, haw! Good old Congress!"

"Well, did you find any o' them reindeer doin' any relievin' roundDawson?"

"Naw! What do _you_ think? Takes more'n Congress to git over the DaltonTrail"; and Windy returned to his pie. 

Talking earnestly with Mr. Butts, French Charlie pushed heavily pastthe Boy on his way to the bar. From his gait it was clear that he hadmade many similar visits that evening. In his thick Canadian accentCharlie was saying:

"I blowed out a lot o' dust for dat girl. She's wearin' my di'mon' now, and won't look at me. Say, Butts, I'll give you twenty dollars if yousneak dat ring. "

"Done with you, " says Butts, as calm as a summer's day. In two minutesMaudie was twirling about with the handy gentleman, who seemed asaccomplished with his toes as he was reputed to be with his fingers. 

He came up with her presently and ordered some wine. 

"Wine, b-gosh!" muttered Charlie in drunken appreciation, proppinghimself against the wall again, and always slipping sideways. "Y' tinkhe's d' fines' sor' fella, don't you? Hein? Wai' 'n see!"

The wine disappears and the two go off for another dance. Inside of tenminutes up comes Butts and passes something to French Charlie. Thatgentleman laughs tipsily, and, leaning on Butts's arm, makes his way tothe scales. 

"Weigh out twen' dollars dis gen'man, " he ordered. 

Butts pulled up the string of his poke and slipped to one side, asnoise reached the group at the bar of a commotion at the other end ofthe saloon. 

"My ring! it's gone! My diamond ring! Now, you've got it"; and Maudiecame running out from the dancers after one of the Woodworth gentlemen. 

Charlie straightened up and grinned, almost sobered in excess of joyand satisfied revenge. The Woodworth gentleman is searched andpresently exonerated. Everybody is told of the loss, every nook andcorner investigated. Maudie goes down on hands and knees, even creepingbehind the bar. 

"I know'd she go on somethin' awful, " said Charlie, so gleefully thatBonsor, the proprietor of the Gold Nugget, began to look upon him withsuspicion. 

When Maudie reappeared, flushed, and with disordered hair, after herexcursion under the counter, French Charlie confronted her. 

"Looky here. You treated me blame mean, Maudie; but wha'd' you say ifI's to off' a rewar' for dat ring?"

"Reward! A healthy lot o' good that would do. "

"Oh, very well; 'f you don' wan' de ring back--"

"I _do, _ Charlie. "

He hammered on the bar. 

"Ev'body gottah look fur ring. I give a hunner 'n fifty dollah rewar'. "

Maudie stared at the princely offer. But instantly the commotion wasgreater than ever. "Ev'body" did what was expected of them, especiallyMr. Butts. They flew about, looking in possible and impossible places, laughing, screaming, tumbling over one another. In the midst of theuproar French Charlie lurches up to Maudie. 

"Dat look anyt'in' like it?"

"Oh, _Charlie!"_

She looked the gratitude she could not on the instant speak. 

In the midst of the noise and movement the mackinaw man said to theBoy:

"Don't know as you'd care to see my new prospect hole?"

"Course I'd like to see it. "

"Well, come along tomorrow afternoon. Meet me here 'bout two. Don't_say_ nothin' to nobody, " he added still lower. "We don't want to getoverrun before we've recorded. "

The Boy could have hugged that mackinaw man. 

Outside it was broad day, but still the Gold Nugget lights were flaringand the pianola played. 

They had learned from the bartender where to find Blandford Keith--"Inthe worst-looking shack in the camp. " But "It looks good to me, " saidthe Boy, as they went in and startled Keith out of his first sleep. Theman that brings you letters before the ice goes out is your friend. Keith helped them to bring in their stuff, and was distinctly troubledbecause the travellers wouldn't take his bunk. They borrowed some dryblankets and went to sleep on the floor. 

It was after two when they woke in a panic, lest the mackinaw manshould have gone without them. While the Colonel got breakfast the Boydashed round to the Gold Nugget, found Si McGinty playing craps, andwould have brought him back in triumph to breakfast--but no, he would"wait down yonder below the Gold Nugget, and don't you say nothin' yitabout where we're goin', or we'll have the hull town at our heels. "

About twelve miles "back in the mountains" is a little gulch that makesinto a big one at right angles. 

"That's the pup where my claim is. "

"The what?"

"Little creek; call 'em pups here. "

Down in the desolate hollow a ragged A tent, sagged away from theprevailing wind. Inside, they found that the canvas was a mere shelterover a prospect hole. A rusty stove was almost buried by the heap ofearth and gravel thrown up from a pit several feet deep. 

"This is a winter diggins y' see, " observed the mackinaw man withpride. "It's only while the ground is froze solid you can do this kindo' minin'. I've had to burn the ground clean down to bed-rock. Yes, sir, thawed my way inch by inch to the old channel. "

"Well, and what have you found?"

"S'pose we pan some o' this dirt and see. "

His slow caution impressed his hearers. They made up a fire, meltedsnow, and half filled a rusty pan with gravel and soil from the bottomof the pit. 

"Know how to pan?"

The Colonel and the Boy took turns. They were much longer at it thanthey ever were again, but the mackinaw man seemed not in the leasthurry. The impatience was all theirs. When they had got down to finesand, "Look!" screamed the Boy. 

"By the Lord!" said the Colonel softly. 

"Is that--"

"Looks like you got some colours there. Gosh! Then I ain't beendreamin' after all. "

"Hey? Dreamin'? What? Look! Look!"

"That's why I brought you gen'l'men out, " says the mackinaw man. "I wasafraid to trust my senses--thought I was gettin' wheels in my head. "

"Lord! look at the gold!"

They took about a dollar and twenty cents out of that pan. 

"Now see here, you gen'l'men jest lay low about this strike. " Hisanxiety seemed intense. They reassured him. "I don't suppose you mindour taking up a claim apiece next you, " pleaded the Boy, "since the lawdon't allow you to stake more'n one. "

"Oh, that's all right, " said the mackinaw man, with an air of princelygenerosity. "And I don't mind if you like to let in a few of yourparticular pals, if you'll agree to help me organise a district. An'I'll do the recordin' fur ye. "

Really, this mackinaw man was a trump. The Colonel took twenty-fivedollars out of a roll of bills and handed it to him. 

"What's this fur?"

"For bringing us out--for giving us the tip. I'd make it more, but tillI get to Dawson--"

"Oh!" laughed the mackinaw man, "_that's_ all right, " and indifferentlyhe tucked the bills into his baggy trousers. 

The Colonel felt keenly the inadequacy of giving a man twenty-fivedollars who had just introduced him to hundreds of thousands--and whosat on the edge of his own gold-mine--but it was only "on account. "

The Colonel staked No. 1 Above the Discovery, and the Boy was in theact of staking No. 1 Below when--

"No, no, " says that kind mackinaw man, "the heavier gold will be foundfurther up the gulch--stake No. 2 Above"; and he told them naturalfacts about placer-mining that no after expert knowledge could everbetter. But he was not as happy as a man should be who has just struckpay. 

"Fact is, it's kind of upsettin' to find it so rich here. "

"Give you leave to upset me that way all day. "

"Y' see, I bought another claim over yonder where I done a lot o' worklast summer and fall. Built a cabin and put up a sluice. I _got_ to beup there soon as the ice goes out. Don't see how I got time to do myassessment here too. Wish I was twins. "

"Why don't you sell this?"

"Guess I'll have to part with a share in it. " He sighed and lookedlovingly into the hole. "Minin's an awful gamble, " he said, as thoughadmonishing Si McGinty; "but we _know_ there's gold just there. "

The Colonel and the Boy looked at their claims and felt the pinch ofuncertainty. "What do you want for a share in your claim, Mr. McGinty?"

"Oh, well, as I say, I'll let it go reasonable to a feller who'd do theassessment, on account o' my having that other property. Say threethousand dollars. "

The Colonel shook his head. "Why, it's dirt-cheap! Two men can take ahundred and fifty dollars a day out of that claim without outside help. And properly worked, the summer ought to show forty thousand dollars. "

On the way home McGinty found he could let the thing go for "twothousand spot cash. "

"Make it quarter shares, " suggested the Boy, thrilled at such a chance, "and the Colonel and I together'll raise five hundred and do the restof the assessment work for you. "

But they were nearly back at Minóok before McGinty said, "Well, I ain'ttwins, and I can't personally work two gold-mines, so we'll call it adeal. " And the money passed that night. 

And the word passed, too, to an ex-Governor of a Western State and hissatellites, newly arrived from Woodworth, and to a party of men justdown from Circle City. McGinty seemed more inclined to share his luckwith strangers than with the men he had wintered amongst. "Mean lot, these Minóok fellers. " But the return of the ex-Governor and so large aparty from quietly staking their claims, roused Minóok to a sense that"somethin' was goin' on. "

By McGinty's advice, the strangers called a secret meeting, and electedMcGinty recorder. All the claim-holders registered their properties andthe dates of location. The Recorder gave everybody his receipt, andeverybody felt it was cheap at five dollars. Then the meeting proceededto frame a code of Laws for the new district, stipulating the number offeet permitted each claim (being rigidly kept by McGinty within thelimits provided by the United States Laws on the subject), anddecreeing the amount of work necessary to hold a claim a year, settlingquestions of water rights, etc. , etc. 

Not until Glory Hallelujah Gulch was a full-fledged mining district didMinóok in general know what was in the wind. The next day the news wasall over camp. 

If McGinty's name inspired suspicion, the Colonel's and theex-Governor's reassured, the Colonel in particular (he had alreadyestablished that credit that came so easy to him) being triumphantlyquoted as saying, "Glory Hallelujah Gulch was the richest placer he'dever struck. " Nobody added that it was also the only one. But thismatter of a stampede is not controlled by reason; it is a thing of thenerves; while you are ridiculing someone else your legs are carryingyou off on the same errand. 

In a mining-camp the saloon is the community's heart. However little aman cares to drink, or to dance, or to play cards, he goes to thesaloon as to the one place where he may meet his fellows, do business, and hear the news. The saloon is the Market Place. It is also the Café, the Theatre, the Club, the Stock Exchange, the Barber's Shop, theBank--in short, you might as well be dead as not be a patron of theGold Nugget. 

Yet neither the Colonel nor the Boy had been there since the night oftheir arrival. On returning from that first triumphant inspection ofMcGinty's diggings, the Colonel had been handed a sealed envelopewithout address. 

"How do you know it's for me?"

"She said it was for the Big Chap, " answered Blandford Keith. 

The Colonel read:

"_Come to the Gold Nugget as soon as you get this, and hear somethingto your advantage_. --MAUDIE. "

So he had stayed away, having plenty to occupy him in helping toorganise the new district. He was strolling past the saloon the morningafter the Secret Meeting, when down into the street, like a kingfisherinto a stream, Maudie darted, and held up the Colonel. 

"Ain't you had my letter?"

"Oh--a--yes--but I've been busy. "

"Guess so!" she said with undisguised scorn. "Where's Si McGinty?"

"Reckon he's out at the gulch. I've got to go down to the A. C. Now andbuy some grub to take out. " He was moving on. 

"Take where?" She followed him up. 

"To McGinty's gulch. "

"What for?"

"Why, to live on, while my pardner and I do the assessment work. "

"Then it's true! McGinty's been fillin' you full o' guff. " The Colonellooked at her a little haughtily. 

"See here: I ain't busy, as a rule, about other folks' funerals, but--"She looked at him curiously. "It's cold here; come in a minute. " Therewas no hint of vulgar nonsense, but something very earnest in the pertlittle face that had been so pretty. They went in. "Order drinks, " shesaid aside, "and don't talk before Jimmie. "

She chaffed the bartender, and leaned idly against the counter. When agroup of returned stampeders came in, she sat down at a rough littlefaro-table, leaned her elbows on it, sipped the rest of the stuff inher tumbler through a straw, and in the shelter of her arms set thestraw in a knot-hole near the table-leg, and spirited the bad liquordown under the board. "Don't give me away, " she said. 

The Colonel knew she got a commission on the drinks, and was there tobring custom. He nodded. 

"I hoped I'd see you in time, " she went on hurriedly--"in time to warnyou that McGinty was givin' you a song and dance. "

"Hey?"

"Tellin" you a ghost story. "

"You mean--"

"Can't you understand plain English?" she said, irritated at suchobtuseness. "I got worried thinkin' it over, for it was me told thatpardner o' yours--" She smiled wickedly. "I expected McGinty'd havesome fun with the young feller, but I didn't expect you'd be such aHatter. " She wound up with the popular reference to lunacy. 

The Colonel pulled up his great figure with some pomposity. "I don'tunderstand. "

"Any feller can see that. You're just the kind the McGintys are layin'for. " She looked round to see that nobody was within earshot. "Si'sbeen layin' round all winter waitin' for the spring crop o' suckers. "

"If you mean there isn't gold out at McGinty's gulch, you're wrong;I've seen it. "

"Course you have. "

He paused. She, sweeping the Gold Nugget with vigilant eye, went on ina voice of indulgent contempt. 

"Some of 'em load up an old shot-gun with a little charge o' powder anda quarter of an ounce of gold-dust on top, fire that into the prospecthole a dozen times or so, and then take a sucker out to pan the stuff. But I bet Si didn't take any more trouble with you than to have somecolours in his mouth, to spit in the shovel or the pan, when you wasn'tlookin'--just enough to drive you crazy, and get you to boost him intoa Recordership. Why, he's cleaned up a tub o' money in fees since youstruck the town. "

The Colonel moved uneasily, but faith with him died hard. 

"McGinty strikes me as a very decent sort of man, with a knowledge ofpractical mining and of mining law--"

Maudie made a low sound of impatience, and pushed her empty glassaside. 

"Oh, very well, go your own way! Waste the whole spring doin' Si'sassessment for him. And when the bottom drops out o' recordin', you'llsee Si gettin' some cheechalko to buy an interest in that rottin' holeo' his--"

Her jaw fell as she saw the Colonel's expression. 

"He's got you too!" she exclaimed. 

"Well, didn't you say yourself that night you'd be glad if McGinty'dlet you a lay?"

"Pshaw! I was only givin' you a song and dance. Not you neither, butthat pardner o' yours. I thought I'd learn that young man a lesson. ButI didn't know you'd get flim-flammed out o' your boots. Thought youlooked like you got some sense. "

Unmoved by the Colonel's aspect of offended dignity, faintly dashedwith doubt, she hurried on:

"Before you go shellin' out any more cash, or haulin' stuff to GloryHallelujah, just you go down that prospect hole o' McGinty's whenMcGinty ain't there, and see how many colours you can ketch. "

The Colonel looked at her. 

"Well, I'll do it, " he said slowly, "and if you're right--"

"Oh, I'm all right, " she laughed; "an' I know my McGinty backwards. But"--she frowned with sudden anger--"it ain't Maudie's pretty way tointerfere with cheechalkos gettin' fooled. I ain't proud o' the troubleI've taken, and I'll thank you not to mention it. Not to that pardnero' yours--not to nobody. "

She stuck her nose in the air, and waved her hand to French Charlie, who had just then opened the door and put his head in. He came straightover to her, and she made room for him on the bench. 

The Colonel went out full of thought. He listened attentively when theex-Governor, that evening at Keith's, said something about the woman upat the Gold Nugget--"Maudie--what's the rest of her name?"

"Don't believe anybody knows. Oh, yes, they must, too; it'll be on herdeeds. She's got the best hundred by fifty foot lot in the place. Heldit down last fall herself with a six-shooter, and she owns that cabinon the corner. Isn't a better business head in Minóok than Maudie's. She got a lay on a good property o' Salaman's last fall, and I guessshe's got more ready dust even now, before the washin' begins, thananybody here except Salaman and the A. C. There ain't a man in Minóokwho wouldn't listen respectfully to Maudie's views on any businessproposition--once he was sure she wasn't fooling. "

And Keith told a string of stories to show how the Minóok minersadmired her astuteness, and helped her unblushingly to get the betterof one another. 

The Colonel stayed in Minóok till the recording was all done, andMcGinty got tired of living on flap-jacks at the gulch. 

The night McGinty arrived in town the Colonel, not even taking the Boyinto his confidence, hitched up and departed for the new district. 

He came back the next day a sadder and a wiser man. They had been sold. 

McGinty was quick to gather that someone must have given him away. Ithad only been a question of time, after all. He had lined his pockets, and could take the new turn in his affairs with equanimity. 

"Wait till the steamers begin to run, " Maudie said; "McGinty'll playthat game with every new boat-load. Oh, McGinty'll make anotherfortune. Then he'll go to Dawson and blow it in. Well, Colonel, sorryyou ain't cultivatin' rheumatism in a damp hole up at GloryHallelujah?"

"I--I am very much obliged to you for saving me from--"

She cut him short. "You see you've got time now to look about you forsomething really good, if there _is_ anything outside of LittleMinóok. "

"It was very kind of you to--"

"No it wasn't, " she said shortly. 

The Colonel took out a roll of bank bills and selected one, folded itsmall, and passed it towards her under the ledge of the table. Sheglanced down. 

"Oh, I don't want that. "

"Yes, please. "

"Tell you I don't. "

"You've done me a very good turn; saved me a lot of time and expense. "

Slowly she took the money, as one thinking out something. 

"Where do you come from?" he asked suddenly. 

"'Frisco. I was in the chorus at the Alcazar. "

"What made you go into the chorus?"

"Got tired o' life on a sheep-ranch. All work and no play. Never saw asoul. Seen plenty since. "

"Got any people belonging to you?"

"Got a kind of a husband. "

"A kind of a husband?"

"Yes--the kind you'd give away with a pound o' tea. "

The little face, full of humourous contempt and shrewd scorn, sobered;she flung a black look round the saloon, and her eyes came back to theColonel's face. 

"I've got a girl, " she said, and a sudden light flashed across herfrowning as swiftly as a meteor cuts down along a darkened sky. "Fouryears old in June. _She_ ain't goin' into no chorus, bet your life!_She's_ going to have money, and scads o' things I ain't never had. "

That night the Colonel and the Boy agreed that, although they hadwasted some valuable time and five hundred and twenty-five dollars onMcGinty, they still had a chance of making their fortunes before thespring rush. 

The next day they went eight miles out in slush and in alternate rainand sunshine, to Little Minóok Creek, where the biggest paying claimswere universally agreed to be. They found a place even more ragged anddesolate than McGinty's, where smoke was rising sullenly fromunderground fires and the smell of burning wood filled the air, theground turned up and dotted at intervals with piles of frozen gravelthat had been hoisted from the shafts by windlass, forlorn littlecabins and tents scattered indiscriminately, a vast number of emptybottles and cans sown broadcast, and, early as it was, a line ofsluices upon Salaman's claim. 

They had heard a great deal about the dark, keen-looking young Oregonlawyer, for Salaman was the most envied man in Minóok. "Come over to mydump and get some nuggets, " says Mr. Salaman, as in other parts of theworld a man will say, "Come into the smoking-room and have a cigar. "

The snow was melted from the top of Salaman's dump, and his guests hadno difficulty in picking several rough little bits of gold out of thethawing gravel. It was an exhilarating occupation. 

"Come down my shaft and see my cross-cuts"; and they followed him. 

He pointed out how the frozen gravel made solid wall, or pillar, and nocurbing was necessary. With the aid of a candle and their host'surging, they picked out several dollars' worth of coarse gold from thegravel "in place" at the edge of the bed-rock. When he had got hisguests thoroughly warmed up:

"Yes, I took out several thousand last fall, and I'll have twentythousand more out of my first summer clean-up. "

"And after that?"

"After that I'm going home. I wouldn't stay here and work this way andlive this way another winter, not for twenty millions. "

"I'm surprised to hear _you_ talking like that, sah. "

"Well, you won't be once you have tried it yourself. Mining up here'san awful gamble. Colours pretty well everywhere, and a few flakes offlour gold, just enough to send the average cheechalko crazy, but noreal 'pay' outside of this little gulch. And even here, every inch hasbeen scrambled for--and staked, too--and lots of it fought over. Mendied here in the fall defending their ground from the jumpers--groundthat hadn't a dollar in it. "

"Well, your ground was worth looking after, and John Dillon's. Which ishis claim?"

Salaman led the way over the heaps of gravel and round a windlass toNo. 6, admitting:

"Oh, yes, Dillon and I, and a few others, have come out of it allright, but Lord! it's a gamble. "

Dillon's pardner, Kennedy, did the honours, showing the Big Chimney menthe very shaft out of which their Christmas heap of gold had beenhoisted. It was true after all. For the favoured there _was_ "plenty o'gold--plenty o' gold. "

"But, " said Salaman, "there are few things more mysterious than itswhereabouts or why it should be where it is. Don't talk to me aboutmining experts--we've had 'em here. But who can explain the mystery ofMinóok? There are six claims in all this country that pay to work. Thepay begins in No. 5; before that, nothing. Just up yonder, above No. 10, the pay-streak pinches out. No mortal knows why. A whole winter'stoiling and moiling, and thousands of dollars put into the ground, haven't produced an ounce of gold above that claim or below No. 5. Itell you it's an awful gamble. Hunter Creek, Hoosier, Bear, Big Minóok, I You, Quail, Alder, Mike Hess, Little Nell--the whole blessed country, rivers, creeks, pups, and all, staked for a radius of forty miles justbecause there's gold here, where we're standing. "

"You don't mean there's _nothing_ left!"

"Nothing within forty miles that somebody hasn't either staked or mademoney by abandoning. "

"Made money?"

Salaman laughed. 

"It's money in your pocket pretty nearly every time you don't take up aclaim. Why, on Hunter alone they've spent twenty thousand dollars thiswinter. "

"And how much have they taken out?"

With index-finger and thumb Salaman made an "O, " and looked shrewdlythrough it. 

"It's an awful gamble, " he repeated solemnly. 

"It doesn't seem possible there's _nothing_ left, " reiterated the Boy, incredulous of such evil luck. 

"Oh, I'm not saying you may not make something by getting on some otherfellow's property, if you've a mind to pay for it. But you'd better nottake anything on trust. I wouldn't trust my own mother in Alaska. Something in the air here that breeds lies. You can't believe anybody, yourself included. " He laughed, stooped, and picked a little nugget outof the dump. "You'll have the same man tell you an entirely differentstory about the same matter within an hour. Exaggeration is in the air. The best man becomes infected. You lie, he lies, they all lie. Lots ofpeople go crazy in Alaska every year--various causes, but it's chieflyfrom believing their own lies. "

They returned to Rampart. 

It was decidedly inconvenient, considering the state of their finances, to have thrown away that five hundred dollars on McGinty. They messedwith Keith, and paid their two-thirds of the household expenses; butDawson prices reigned, and it was plain there were no Dawson prizes. 

"Well, " said the Colonel in the morning, "we've got to live somehowtill the ice goes out. " The Boy sat thinking. The Colonel went on: "Andwe can't go to Dawson cleaned out. No tellin' whether there are anyproper banks there or whether my Louisville instructions got through. Of course, we've got the dogs yet. "

"Don't care how soon we sell Red and Spot. "

After breakfast the Boy tied Nig up securely behind Keith's shack, andfollowed the Colonel about with a harassed and watchful air. 

"No market for dogs now, " seemed to be the general opinion, and oneperson bore up well under the news. 

But the next day a man, very splashed and muddy, and obviously just infrom the gulches, stopped, in going by Keith's, and looked at Nig. 

"Dog market's down, " quoted the Boy internally to hearten himself. 

"That mahlemeut's for sale, " observed the Colonel to the stranger. 

"These are. " The Boy hastily dragged Red and Spot upon the scene. 

"How much?"

"Seventy-five dollars apiece. "

The man laughed. "Ain't you heard the dog season's over?"

"Well, don't you count on livin' to the next?"

The man pushed his slouch over his eyes and scratched the back of hishead. 

"Unless I can git 'em reasonable, dogs ain't worth feedin' till nextwinter. "

"I suppose not, " said the Boy sympathetically; "and you can't get fishhere. "

"Right. Feedin' yourn on bacon, I s'pose, at forty cents a pound?'

"Bacon and meal. "

"Guess you'll get tired o' that. "

"Well, we'd sell you the red dog for sixty dollars, " admitted the Boy. 

The man stared. "Give you thirty for that black brute over there. "

"Thirty dollars for Nig!"

"And not a--cent more. Dogs is down. " He could get a dozen as good fortwenty-five dollars. 

"Just you try. " But the Colonel, grumbling, said thirty dollars wasthirty dollars, and he reckoned he'd call it a deal. The Boy stared, opened his mouth to protest, and shut it without a sound. 

The Colonel had untied Nig, and the Leader, unmindful of the impendingchange in his fortunes, dashed past the muddy man from the gulch withsuch impetuosity that he knocked that gentleman off his legs. He pickedhimself up scowling, and was feeling for his gold sack. 

"Got scales here?"

"No need of scales. " The Boy whipped out a little roll of money, counted out thirty dollars, and held it towards the Colonel. "I canafford to keep Nig awhile if that's his figure. "

The stranger was very angry at this new turn in the dog deal. He hadseen that Siwash out at the gulch, heard he was for sale, and came in"a purpose to git him. "

"The dog season's over, " said the Boy, pulling Nig's ears and smiling. 

"Oh, _is_ it? Well, the season for eatin' meals ain't over. How'm I togit grub out to my claim without a dog?"

"We are offerin' you a couple o' capital draught dogs. "

"I bought that there Siwash, and I'd a paid fur him if he hadn't aknocked me down. " He advanced threateningly. "An' if you ain't huntin'trouble--"

The big Colonel stepped in and tried to soothe the stranger, as well asto convince him that this was not the party to try bullying on. 

"I'll give you forty dollars for the dog, " said the muddy man sulkilyto the Boy. 

"No. "

"Give you fifty, and that's my last word. "

"I ain't sellin' dogs. "

He cursed, and offered five dollars more. 

"Can't you see I _mean_ it? I'm goin' to keep that dog--awhile. "

"S'pose you think you'll make a good thing o' hirin' him out?"

He hadn't thought of it, but he said: "Why not? Best dog in the Yukon. "

"Well, how much?"

"How much'll you give?"

"Dollar a day. "

"Done. "

So Nig was hired out, Spot was sold for twenty dollars, and Red laterfor fifteen. 

"Well, " said the Colonel when they went in, "I didn't know you were sosmart. But you can't live _here_ on Nig's seven dollars a week. "

The Boy shook his head. Their miserable canned and salted fare costabout four dollars a day per man. 

"I'm goin' to take Nig's tip, " he said--"goin' to work. "

Easier said than done. In their high rubber boots they splashed aboutRampart in the mild, thawing weather, "tryin' to scare up a job, " asone of them stopped to explain to every likely person: "Yes, sah, lookin' for any sort of honourable employment till the ice goes out. "

"Nothin' doin'. "

"Everything's at a standstill. "

"Just keepin' body and soul together myself till the boats come in. "

They splashed out to the gulch on the same errand. 

Yes, wages were fifteen dollars a day when they were busy. Just nowthey were waiting for the thorough thaw. 

"Should think it was pretty thorough without any waitin'. "

Salaman shook his head. "Only in the town and tundra. The frost holdson to the deep gulch gravel like grim death. And the diggin's werealready full of men ready to work for their keep-at least, they sayso, " Salaman added. 

Not only in the great cities is human flesh and blood held cheaper thanthat of the brutes. Even in the off season, when dogs was down, Nigcould get his dollar a day, but his masters couldn't get fifty cents. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE GREAT STAMPEDE

"Die Menchen suchen und suchen, wollen immer was Besseres finden.... Gott geb' ihnen nur Geduld!"

Men in the Gold Nugget were talking about some claims, staked andrecorded in due form, but on which the statutory work had not beendone. 

"What about 'em?"

"They're jumpable at midnight. "

French Charlie invited the Boy to go along, but neither he nor theColonel felt enthusiastic. 

"They're no good, those claims, except to sell to some sucker, andwe're not in that business _yet_, sah. "

They had just done twenty miles in slush and mire, and their heartswere heavier than their heels. No, they would go to bed while theothers did the jumpin', and next day they would fill Keith's wood-bin. 

"So if work does turn up we won't have to worry about usin' up hisfirin'. " In the chill of the next evening they were cording the resultsof the day's chopping, when Maudie, in fur coat, skirts to the knee, and high rubber boots, appeared behind Keith's shack. Without deigningto notice the Boy, "Ain't seen you all day, " says she to the Colonel. 

"Busy, " he replied, scarcely looking up. 

"Did you do any jumpin' last night?"

"No. "

"_That's_ all right. "

She seated herself with satisfaction on a log. She looked at the Boyimpudently, as much as to say, "When that blot on the landscape isremoved, I'll tell you something. " The Boy had not the smallestintention of removing the blot. 

Grudgingly he admitted to himself that, away from the unsavoryatmosphere of the Gold Nugget, there was nothing in Maudie positivelyoffensive. At this moment, with her shrewd little face peering pertlyout from her parki-hood, she looked more than ever like an audaciouschild, or like some strange, new little Arctic animal with a whimsicalhuman air. 

"Look here, Colonel, " she said presently, either despairing of gettingrid of the Boy or ceasing to care about it: "you got to get a wiggle onto-morrow. "

"What for?"

She looked round, first over one shoulder, then over the other. "Well, it's on the quiet. "

The Kentuckian nodded. But she winked her blue eyes suspiciously at theBoy. 

"Oh, _he's_ all right. "

"Well, you been down to Little Minóok, ain't you?"

"Yes. "

"And you seen how the pay pinches out above No. 10?"

"Yes. "

"Well, now, if it ain't above No. 10, where is it?" No answer. "Wheredoes it _go_?" she repeated severely, like a schoolmarm to a class ofbackward boys. 

"That's what everybody'd like to know. "

"Then let 'em ask Pitcairn. "

"What's Pitcairn say?"

She got up briskly, moved to another log almost at the Colonel's feet, and sat looking at him a moment as if making up her mind aboutsomething serious. The Colonel stood, fists at his sides, arrested bythat name Pitcairn. 

"You know Pitcairn's the best all-round man we got here, " she assertedrather than asked. 

The Colonel nodded. 

"He's an Idaho miner, Pitcairn is!"

"I know. "

"Well, he's been out lookin' at the place where the gold gives out onLittle Minóok. There's a pup just there above No. 10--remember?"

"Perfectly. "

"And above the pup, on the right, there's a bed of gravel. "

"Couldn't see much of that for the snow. "

"Well, sir, that bed o' gravel's an old channel. "

"No!"

She nodded. "Pitcairn's sunk a prospect, and found colours in his firstpan. "

"Oh, colours!"

"But the deeper he went, the better prospects he got. " She stood upnow, close to the Colonel. The Boy stopped work and leaned on the woodpile, listening. "Pitcairn told Charlie and me (on the strict q. T. )that the gold channel crossed the divide at No. 10, and the only goldon Little Minóokust what spilt down on those six claims as the goldwent crossin' the gulch. The real placer is that old channel above thepup, and boys"--in her enthusiasm she even included the Colonel'sobjectionable pardner--"boys, it's rich as blazes!"

"I wonder----" drawled the Colonel, recovering a little from his firstthrill. 

"I wouldn't advise you to waste much time wonderin', " she said withfire. "What I'm tellin' you is scientific. Pitcairn is straight as astring. You won't get any hymns out o' Pitcairn, but you'll get fairand square. His news is worth a lot. If you got any natchral gumptionanywhere about you, you can have a claim worth anything from ten tofifty thousand dollars this time to-morrow. "

"Well, well! Good Lord! Hey, Boy, what we goin' to do?"

"Well, you don't want to get excited, " admonished the queer littleArctic animal, jumping up suddenly; "but you can bunk early and get afour a. M. Wiggle on. Charlie and me'll meet you on the Minóokl. Ta-ta!"tad she whisked away as suddenly as a chipmunk. 

They couldn't sleep. Some minutes before the time named they werequietly leaving Keith's shack. Out on the trail there were two or threemen already disappearing towards Little Minóok here was Maudie, all byherself, sprinting along like a good fellow, on the thin surface of thelast night's frost. She walked in native water-boots, but hersnow-shoes stuck out above the small pack neatly lashed on her straightlittle shoulders. They waited for her. 

She came up very brisk and businesslike. To their good-mornings sheonly nodded in a funny, preoccupied way, never opening her lips. 

"Charlie gone on?" inquired the Colonel presently. 

She shook her head. "Knocked out. "

"Been fightin'?"

"No; ran a race to Hunter. "

"To jump that claim?"

She nodded. 

"Did he beat?"

She laughed. "Butts had the start. They got there together at nineo'clock!"

"Three hours before jumpin' time?"

Again she nodded. "And found four more waitin' on the same foolerrand. "

"What did they do?"

"Called a meetin'. Couldn't agree. It looked like there'd be a fight, and a fast race to the Recorder among the survivors. But before themeetin' was adjourned, those four that had got there first (they werepretty gay a'ready), they opened some hootch, so Butts and Charlie knewthey'd nothing to fear except from one another. "

On the top of the divide that gave them their last glimpse of Rampartshe stopped an instant and looked back. The quick flash of anxietydeepening to defiance made the others turn. The bit they could see ofthe water-front thoroughfare was alive. The inhabitants were rushingabout like a swarm of agitated ants. 

"What's happening?"

"It's got out, " she exploded indignantly. "They're comin', too!"

She turned, flew down the steep incline, and then settled into asteady, determined gait, that made her gain on the men who had got solong a start. Her late companions stood looking back in sheeramazement, for the town end of the trail was black with figures. TheBoy began to laugh. 

"Look! if there isn't old Jansen and his squaw wife. "

The rheumatic cripple, huddled on a sled, was drawn by a native man andpushed by a native woman. They could hear him swearing at bothimpartially in broken English and Chinook. 

The Colonel and the Boy hurried after Maudie. It was some minutesbefore they caught up. The Boy, feeling that he couldn't bestand-offish in the very act of profiting by her acquaintance, began totell her about the crippled but undaunted Swede. She made no answer, just trotted steadily on. The Boy hazarded another remark--an opinionthat she was making uncommon good time for a woman. 

"You'll want all the wind you got before you get back, " she saidshortly, and silence fell on the stampeders. 

Some of the young men behind were catching up. Maudie sether mouth very firm and quickened her pace. This spectacle touchedup those that followed; they broke into a canter, floundered in adrift, recovered, and passed on. Maudie pulled up. 

"That's all right! Let 'em get good and tired, half-way. We got to saveall the run we got in us for the last lap. "

The sun was hotter, the surface less good. 

She loosened her shoulder-straps, released her snow-shoes, and put themon. As she tightened her little pack the ex-Governor came puffing upwith apoplectic face. 

"Why, she can throw the diamond hitch!" he gasped with admiration. 

"S'pose you thought the squaw hitch would be good enough for me. "

"Well, it is for me, " he laughed breathlessly. 

"That's 'cause you're an ex-Governor"; and steadily she tramped along. 

In twenty minutes Maudie's party came upon those same young men who hadpassed running. They sat in a row on a fallen spruce. One had no rubberboots, the other had come off in such a hurry he had forgotten hissnow-shoes. Already they were wet to the waist. 

"Step out, Maudie, " said one with short-breathed hilarity; "we'll betreadin' on your heels in a minute;" but they were badly blown. 

Maudie wasted not a syllable. Her mouth began to look drawn. There wereviolet shadows under the straight-looking eyes. 

The Colonel glanced at her now and then. Is she thinking about thatfour-year-old? Is Maudie stampedin' through the snow so that otherlittle woman need never dance at the Alcazar? No, the Colonel knew wellenough that Maudie rather liked this stampedin' business. 

She had passed one of those men who had got the long start of her. Hecarried a pack. Once in a while she would turn her strained-lookingface over her shoulder, glancing back, with the frank eyes of an enemy, at her fellow-citizens labouring along the trail. 

"Come on, Colonel!" she commanded, with a new sharpness. "Keep up yourlick. "

But the Colonel had had about enough of this gait. From now on he fellmore and more behind. But the Boy was with her neck and neck. 

"Guess you're goin' to get there. "

"Guess I am. "

Some men behind them began to run. They passed. They had pulled offtheir parkis, and left them where they fell. They threw off their capsnow, and the sweat rolled down their faces. Not a countenance but worethat immobile look, the fixed, unseeing eye of the spent runner, who isovertaxing heart and lungs. Not only Maudie now, but everyone wassilent. Occasionally a man would rouse himself out of a walk, as if outof sleep, and run a few yards, going the more weakly after. Several ofthe men who had been behind caught up. 

Where was Kentucky?

If Maudie wondered, she wasted no time over the speculation. For hisown good she had admonished him to keep up his lick, but of course themain thing was that Maudie should keep up hers. 

"What if this is the great day of my life!" thought the Boy. "Shall Ialways look back to this? Why, it's Sunday. Wonder if Kentuckyremembers?" Never pausing, the Boy glanced back, vaguely amused, andsaw the Colonel plunging heavily along in front of half a dozen, whowere obviously out of condition for such an expedition--eyes bloodshot, lumbering on with nervous "whisky gait, " now whipped into a breathlessgallop, now half falling by the way. Another of the Gold Nugget womenwith two groggy-looking men, and somewhere down the trail, the crippledSwede swearing at his squaw. A dreamy feeling came over the Boy. Wherein the gold basins of the North was this kind of thing nothappening--finished yesterday, or planned for to-morrow? Yes, it wastypical. Between patches of ragged black spruce, wide stretches ofsnow-covered moss, under a lowering sky, and a mob of men flounderingthrough the drifts to find a fortune. "See how they run!"--mad mice. They'd been going on stampedes all winter, and would go year in, yearout, until they died. The prizes were not for such as they. As forhimself--ah, it was a great day for him! He was going at last to claimthat gold-mine he had come so far to find. This was the decisive momentof his life. At the thought he straightened up, and passed Maudie. Shegave him a single sidelong look, unfriendly, even fierce. That wasbecause he could run like sixty, and keep it up. "When I'm amillionaire I shall always remember that I'm rich because I won therace. " A dizzy feeling came over him. He seemed to be running throughsome softly resisting medium like water--no, like wine jelly. His heartwas pounding up in his throat. "What if something's wrong, and I dropdead on the way to my mine? Well, Kentucky'll look after things. "

Maudie had caught up again, and here was Little Minóok at last! Acouple of men, who from the beginning had been well in advance ofeveryone else, and often out of sight, had seemed for the last fiveminutes to be losing ground. But now they put on steam, Maudie too. Shestepped out of her snowshoes, and flung them up on the low roof of thefirst cabin. Then she ducked her head, crooked her arms at the elbow, and, with fists uplifted, she broke into a run, jumping from pile topile of frozen pay, gliding under sluice-boxes, scrambling up the bank, slipping on the rotting ice, recovering, dashing on over fallen timberand through waist-deep drifts, on beyond No. 10 up to the bench above. 

When the Boy got to Pitcairn's prospect hole, there were already sixclaims gone. He proceeded to stake the seventh, next to Maudie's. Thatperson, with flaming cheeks, was driving her last location-post into asnow-drift with a piece of water-worn obsidian. 

The Colonel came along in time to stake No. 14 Below, under Maudie'spersonal supervision. 

Not much use, in her opinion, "except that with gold, it's where youfind it, and that's all any man can tell you. "

As she was returning alone to her own claim, behold two brawny CircleCity miners pulling out her stakes and putting in their own. She flewat them with remarks unprintable. 

"You keep your head shut, " advised one of the men, a big, evil-lookingfellow. "This was our claim first. We was here with Pitcairn yesterday. Somebody's took away our location-posts. "

"You take me for a cheechalko?" she screamed, and her blue eyes flashedlike smitten steel. She pulled up her sweater and felt in her belt. "You--take your stakes out! Put mine back, unless you want----" Amurderous-looking revolver gleamed in her hand. 

"Hold on!" said the spokesman hurriedly. "Can't you take a joke?"

"No; this ain't my day for jokin'. You want to put them stakes o' mineback. " She stood on guard till it was done. "And now I'd advise you, like a mother, to back-track home. You'll find this climate very tryin'to your health. "

They went farther up the slope and marked out a claim on the inclineabove the bench. 

In a few hours the mountain-side was staked to the very top, and stillthe stream of people struggled out from Rampart to the scene of the newstrike. All day long, and all the night, the trail was alive with thecoming or the going of the five hundred and odd souls that made up thepopulation. In the town itself the excitement grew rather than waned. Men talked themselves into a fever, others took fire, and the epidemicspread like some obscure nervous disease. Nobody slept, everybody drankand hurrahed, and said it was the greatest night in the history ofMinóok. In the Gold Nugget saloon, crowded to suffocation, Pitcairnorganized the new mining district, and named it the Idaho Bar. FrenchCharlie and Keith had gone out late in the day. On their return, Keithsold his stake to a woman for twenty-five dollars, and Charlieadvertised a half-interest in his for five thousand. Between these twoextremes you could hear Idaho Bar quoted at any figure you liked. 

Maudie was in towering spirits. She drank several cocktails, and in herknee-length "stampedin' skirt" and her scarlet sweater she danced themost audacious jig even Maudie had ever presented to the Gold Nuggetpatrons. The miners yelled with delight. One of them caught her up andput her on the counter of the bar, where, no whit at a loss, shecurveted and spun among the bottles and the glasses as lightly as adragonfly dips and whirls along a summer brook. The enthusiasm grewdelirious. The men began to throw nuggets at her, and Maudie, neverpausing in the dance, caught them on the fly. 

Suddenly she saw the Big Chap turn away, and, with his back to her, pretend to read the notice on the wall, written in charcoal on a greatsheet of brown wrapping-paper:

"MINÓOK, April 30. 

"To who it may concern:

"Know all men by these presents that I, James McGinty, now of Minóok(or Rampart City), Alaska, do hereby give notice of my intention tohold and claim a lien by virtue of the statue in such case----"

He had read so far when Maudie, having jumped down off the bar with herfists full of nuggets, and dodging her admirers, wormed her way to theColonel. She thrust her small person in between the notice and thereader, and scrutinised the tanned face, on which the Rochester burnersshed a flood of light. "You lookin' mighty serious, " she said. 

"Am I?"

"M-hm! Thinkin' 'bout home sweet home?"

"N-no--not just then. "

"Say, I told you 'bout--a--'bout me. You ain't never told me nothin'. "

He seemed not to know the answer to that, and pulled at his raggedbeard. She leaned back against McGinty's notice, and blurred still morethe smudged intention "by virtue of the statue. "

"Married, o' course, " she said. 

"No. "

"Widder?"

"No. "

"Never hitched up yet?"

He shook his head. 

"Never goin' to, I s'pose. "

"Oh, I don't know, " he laughed, and turned his head over his shoulderto the curious scene between them and the bar. It was suddenly as if hehad never seen it before; then, while Maudie waited, a little scornful, a little kind, his eyes went through the window to the pink and orangesunrise. As some change came over the Colonel's face, "She died!" saidMaudie. 

"No--no--she didn't die;" then half to himself, half to forestallMaudie's crude probing, "but I lost her, " he finished. 

"Oh, you lost her!"

He stood, looking past the ugliness within to the morning majestywithout. But it was not either that he saw. Maudie studied him. 

"Guess you ain't give up expectin' to find her some day?"

"No--no, not quite. "

"Humph! Did you guess you'd find her here?"

"No, " and his absent smile seemed to remove him leagues away. "No, nothere. "

"I could a' told you----" she began savagely. "I don't know for certainwhether any--what you call good women come up here, but I'm dead surenone stay. "

"When do you leave for home, Maudie?" he said gently. 

But at the flattering implication the oddest thing happened. As shestood there, with her fists full of gold, Maudie's eyes filled. Sheturned abruptly and went out. The crowd began to melt away. In half anhour only those remained who had more hootch than they could carry offthe premises. They made themselves comfortable on the floor, near thestove, and the greatest night Minóok had known was ended. 

CHAPTER XVIII

A MINERS' MEETING

"Leiden oder triumphiren Hammer oder Amboss sein. "--Goethe. 

In a good-sized cabin, owned by Bonsor, down near the A. C. , JudgeCorey was administering Miners' Law. The chief magistrate was already afamiliar figure, standing on his dump at Little Minóok, speculativelychewing and discussing "glayshal action, " but most of the time at theGold Nugget, chewing still, and discussing more guardedly the actionsome Minóok man was threatening to bring against another. You may treata glacier cavalierly, but Miners' Law is a serious matter. Corey wassitting before a deal table, littered with papers strewn round acentral bottle of ink, in which a steel pen stuck upright. The Judgewore his usual dilapidated business suit of brown cheviot that had oncebeen snuff-coloured and was now a streaky drab. On his feet, stretchedout under the magisterial table till they joined the jury, a pair ofmoccasins; on his grizzled head a cowboy hat, set well back. He couldspit farther than any man in Minóok, and by the same token was a bettershot. They had unanimously elected him Judge. 

The first-comers had taken possession of the chairs and wooden stoolsround the stove. All the later arrivals, including Keith and hisfriends, sat on the floor. 

"There's a good many here. "

"They'll keep comin' as long as a lean man can scrouge in. "

"Yes, " said Keith, "everybody's got to come, even if it's only theusual row between pardners, who want to part and can't agree aboutdividing the outfit. "

"Got to come?"

Keith laughed. "That's the way everybody feels. There'll be a debateand a chance to cast a vote. Isn't your true-born American alwaysitching to hold a meeting about something?"

"Don't know about that, " said McGinty, "but I do know there's morethings happens in a minute to make a man mad in Alaska, than happens ina year anywhere else. " And his sentiment was loudly applauded. Theplaintiff had scored a hit. 

"I don't know but two partnerships, " the ex-Governor was saying, "ofall those on my ship and on the Muckluck and the May West--just two, that have stood the Alaska strain. Everyone that didn't break on theboats, or in camp, went to smash on the trail. "

They all admitted that the trail was the final test. While they smokedand spat into or at the stove, and told trail yarns, the chiefmagistrate arranged papers, conferred with the clerk and another man, wrinkled deeply his leathery forehead, consulted his Waterbury, andshot tobacco-juice under the table. 

"Another reason everybody comes, " whispered Keith, "is because the sidethat wins always takes the town up to the Nugget and treats to hootch. Whenever you see eighty or ninety more drunks than usual, you knowthere's either been a stampede or else justice has been administered. "

"Ain't Bonsor late?" asked someone. 

"No, it's a quarter of. "

"Why do they want Bonsor?"

"His case on the docket--McGinty v. Burt Bonsor, proprietor of the GoldNugget. "

"If they got a row on----"

"If they got a row? Course they got a row. Weren't they pardners?"

"But McGinty spends all his time at the Gold Nugget. "

"Well, where would he spend it?"

"A Miners' Meetin's a pretty poor machine, " McGinty was saying to theex-Governor, "but it's the best we got. "

"----in a country bigger than several of the nations of Europe puttogether, " responded that gentleman, with much public spirit. 

"A Great Country!"

"Right!"

"You bet!"

"----a country that's paid for its purchase over and over again, evenbefore we discovered gold here. "

"Did she? Good old 'laska. "

"----and the worst treated part o' the Union. "

"That's so. "

"After this, when I read about Russian corruption and Chinese cruelty, I'll remember the way Uncle Sam treats the natives up----"

"----and us, b'gosh! White men that are openin' up this great, richcountry fur Uncle Sam----"

"----with no proper courts--no Government protection--no help--nojustice--no nothin'. "

"Yer forgittin' them reindeer!" And the court-room rang with derisivelaughter. 

"Congress started that there Relief Expedition all right, " the josherwent on, "only them blamed reindeer had got the feed habit, and whenthey'd et up everything in sight they set down on the Dalton Trail--andthere they're settin' yit, just like they was Congress. But I don'tlike to hear no feller talkin' agin' the Gover'ment. "

"Yes, it's all very funny, " said McGinty gloomily, "but think o' thefix a feller's in wot's had a wrong done him in the fall, and knowsjustice is thousands o' miles away, and he can't even go after her foreight months; and in them eight months the feller wot robbed him has etup the money, or worked out the claim, and gone dead-broke. "

"No, sir! we don't wait, and we don't go trav'lin'. We stay at home andcall a meetin'. "

The door opened, and Bonsor and the bar-tender, with great difficulty, forced their way in. They stood flattened against the wall. During thediversion McGinty was growling disdainfully, "Rubbidge!"

"Rubbidge? Reckon it's pretty serious rubbidge. "

"Did you ever know a Miners' Meetin' to make a decision that didn'tbecome law, with the whole community ready to enforce it if necessary?Rubbidge!

"Oh, we'll hang a man if we don't like his looks, " grumbled McGinty;but he was overborne. There were a dozen ready to uphold the majesty ofthe Miners' Meetin'. 

"No, sir! No funny business about our law! This tribunal's final. "

"I ain't disputin' that it's final. I ain't talkin' about law. I wasmentionin' Justice. "

"The feller that loses is always gassin' 'bout Justice. When you winyou don't think there's any flies on the Justice. "

"Ain't had much experience with winnin'. We all knows who wins in theseyere Meetin's. "

"Who?" But they turned their eyes on Mr. Bonsor, over by the door. 

"Who wins?" repeated a Circle City man. 

"The feller that's got the most friends. "

"It's so, " whispered Keith. 

"----same at Circle, " returned the up-river man. 

McGinty looked at him. Was this a possible adherent?

"You got a Push at Circle?" he inquired, but without genuine interestin the civil administration up the river. "Why, 'fore this yere townwas organised, when we hadn't got no Court of Arbitration to fix aboundary, or even to hang a thief, we had our 'main Push, ' just like wewas 'Frisco. " He lowered his voice, and leaned towards his Circlefriend. "With Bonsor's help they 'lected Corey Judge o' the P'liceCourt, and Bonsor ain't never let Corey forgit it. "

"What about the other?" inquired a Bonsorite, "the shifty Push that gotyou in for City Marshal?"

"What's the row on to-night?" inquired the Circle City man. 

"Oh, Bonsor, over there, he lit out on a stampede 'bout Christmas, andwhile he was gone a feller by the name o' Lawrence quit the game. Fanned out one night at the Gold Nugget. I seen for days he was wantin'to be a angil, and I kep' a eye on 'im. Well, when he went to theboneyard, course it was my business, bein' City Marshal, to takepossession of his property fur his heirs!"

There was unseemly laughter behind the stove-pipe. 

"Among his deeds and traps, " McGinty went on, unheeding, "there wasfifteen hundred dollars in money. Well, sir, when Bonsor gits back hedecides he'd like to be the custodian o' that cash. Mentions his ideeto me. I jest natchrally tell him to go to hell. No, sir, he goes toCorey over there, and gits an order o' the Court makin' Bonsoradministrator o' the estate o' James Lawrence o' Noo Orleens, latelydeceased. Then Bonsor comes to me, shows me the order, and demands thatfifteen hundred. "

"Didn't he tell you you could keep all the rest o' Lawrence's stuff?"asked the Bonsorite. 

McGinty disdained to answer this thrust. 

"But I knows my dooty as City Marshal, and I says, 'No, ' and Bonsorsays, says he, 'If you can't git the idee o' that fifteen hundreddollars out o' your head, I'll git it out fur ye with a bullet, ' an' hedraws on me. "

"An' McGinty weakens, " laughed the mocker behind the stove-pipe. 

"Bonsor jest pockets the pore dead man's cash, " says McGinty, withrighteous indignation, "and I've called this yer meetin' t' arbitratethe matter. "

"Minoók doesn't mind arbitrating, " says Keith low to the Colonel, "butthere isn't a man in camp that would give five cents for the interestof the heirs of Lawrence in that fifteen hundred dollars. "

A hammering on the clerk's little table announced that it was sevenp. M. 

The Court then called for the complaint filed by McGinty v. Bonsor, thefirst case on the docket. The clerk had just risen when the door wasflung open, and hatless, coatless, face aflame, Maudie stood among theminers. 

"Boys!" said she, on the top of a scream, "I been robbed. "

"Hey?"

"Robbed?"

"Golly!"

"Maudie robbed?" They spoke all together. Everybody had jumped up. 

"While we was on that stampede yesterday, somebody found my--allmy----" She choked, and her eyes filled. "Boys! my nuggets, my dust, mydollars--they're gone!"

"Where did you have 'em?"

"In a little place under--in a hole. " Her face twitched, and she puther hand up to hide it. 

"Mean shame. "

"Dirt mean. "

"We'll find him, Maudie. "

"An' when we do, we'll hang him on the cottonwood. "

"Did anybody know where you kept your----"

"I didn't think so, unless it was----No!" she screamed hysterically, and then fell into weak crying. "Can't think who could have been such askunk. "

"But who do you suspect?" persisted the Judge. 

"How do I know?" she retorted angrily. "I suspect everybody till--tillI know. " She clenched her hands. 

That a thief should be "operating" in Minoók on somebody who wasn'tdead yet, was a matter that came home to the business and the bosoms ofall the men in the camp. In the midst of the babel of speculation andexcitement, Maudie, still crying and talking incoherently about skunks, opened the door. The men crowded after her. Nobody suggested it, butthe entire Miners' Meeting with one accord adjourned to the scene ofthe crime. Only a portion could be accommodated under Maudie's roof, but the rest crowded in front of her door or went and examined thewindow. Maudie's log-cabin was a cheerful place, its one room, neatlykept, lined throughout with red and white drill, hung with marten andfox, carpeted with wolf and caribou. The single sign of disorder wasthat the bed was pulled out a little from its place in the angle of thewall above the patent condenser stove. Behind the oil-tank, where thepatent condensation of oil into gas went on, tiers of shelves, enamelled pots and pans ranged below, dishes and glasses above. On thevery top, like a frieze, gaily labelled ranks of "tinned goods. " On thetable under the window a pair of gold scales. A fire burned in thestove. The long-lingering sunlight poured through the "turkey-red" thatshe had tacked up for a half-curtain, and over this, one saw theslouch-hats and fur caps of the outside crowd. 

Clutching Judge Corey by the arm, Maudie pulled him after her into thenarrow space behind the head-board and the wall. 

"It was here--see?" She stooped down. 

Some of the men pulled the bed farther out, so that they, too, couldpass round and see. 

"This piece o' board goes down so slick you'd never know it liftedout. " She fitted it in with shaking hands, and then with her nails anda hairpin got it out. "And way in, underneath, I had this box. I alwaysset it on a flat stone. " She spoke as if this oversight were thethief's chief crime. "See? Like that. "

She fitted the cigar-box into unseen depths of space and then broughtit out again, wet and muddy. The ground was full of springs hereabouts, and the thaw had loosed them. 

"Boys!" She stood up and held out the box. "Boys! it was full. "

Eloquently she turned it upside down. 

"How much do you reckon you had?" She handed the muddy box to thenearest sympathiser, sat down on the fur-covered bed, and wiped hereyes. 

"Any idea?"

"I weighed it all over again after I got in from the Gold Nugget thenight we went on the stampede. "

As she sobbed out the list of her former possessions, Judge Corey tookit down on the back of a dirty envelope. So many ounces of dust, somany in nuggets, so much in bills and coin, gold and silver. Each itemwas a stab. 

"Yes, all that--all that!" she jumped up wildly, "and it's gone! But wegot to find it. What you hangin' round here for? Why, if you boys hadany natchral spunk you'd have the thief strung up by now. "

"We got to find him fust. "

"You won't find him standin' here. "

They conferred afresh. 

"It must have been somebody who knowed where you kept the stuff. "

"N-no. " Her red eyes wandered miserably, restlessly, to the window. Over the red half-curtain French Charlie and Butts looked in. They hadnot been to the meeting. 

Maudie's face darkened as she caught sight of the Canadian. 

"Oh, yes, you can crow over me now, " she shouted shrilly above the buzzof comment and suggestion. The Canadian led the way round to the door, and the two men crowded in. 

"You just get out, " Maudie cried in a fury. "Didn't I turn you out o'this and tell you never----"

"Hol' on, " said French Charlie in a conciliatory tone. "This true 'boutyour losin'----"

"Yes, it's true; but I ain't askin' your sympathy!"

He stopped short and frowned. 

"Course not, when you can get his. " Under his slouch-hat he glowered atthe Colonel. 

Maudie broke into a volley of abuse. The very air smelt of brimstone. When finally, through sheer exhaustion, she dropped on the side of thebed, the devil prompted French Charlie to respond in kind. She jumpedup and turned suddenly round upon Corey, speaking in a voice quitedifferent, low and hoarse: "You asked me, Judge, if anybody knew whereI kept my stuff. Charlie did. "

The Canadian stopped in the middle of a lurid remark and staredstupidly. The buzz died away. The cabin was strangely still. 

"Wasn't you along with the rest up to Idaho Bar?" inquired the Judge ina friendly voice. 

"Y-yes. "

"Not when we all were! No!" Maudie's tear-washed eyes were regaining adangerous brightness. "I wanted him to come with me. He wouldn't, andwe quarrelled. "

"We didn't. "

"You didn't quarrel?" put in the Judge. 

"We did, " said Maudie, breathless. 

"Not about that. It was because she wanted another feller to come, too. " Again he shot an angry glance at the Kentuckian. 

"And Charlie said if I gave the other feller the tip, he wouldn't come. And he'd get even with me, if it took a leg!"

"Well, it looks like he done it. "

"Can't you prove an alibi? Thought you said you was along with the restto Idaho Bar?" suggested Windy Jim. 

"So I was. "

"I didn't see you, " Maudie flashed. 

"When were you there?" asked the Judge. 

"Last night. "

"Oh, yes! When everybody else was comin' home. You all know if that'sthe time Charlie usually goes on a stampede!"

"You----"

If words could slay, Maudie would have dropped dead, riddled with adozen mortal wounds. But she lived to reply in kind. Charlie'sabandonment of coherent defence was against him. While he wallowedblindly in a mire of offensive epithet, his fellow-citizens came todark conclusions. He had an old score to pay off against Maudie, theyall knew that. Had he chosen this way? What other so effectual? Hemight even say most of that dust was his, anyway. But it was analarming precedent. The fire of Maudie's excitement had caught andspread. Eve the less inflammable muttered darkly that it was all upwith Minoók, if a person couldn't go on a stampede without havin' hisdust took out of his cabin. The crowd was pressing Charlie, and twentycross-questions were asked him in a minute. He, beside himself withrage, or fear, or both, lost all power except to curse. 

The Judge seemed to be taking down damning evidence on the dirtyenvelope. Some were suggesting:

"Bring him over to the court. "

"Yes, try him straight away. "

No-Thumb-Jack was heard above the din, saying it was all gammon wastingtime over a trial, or even--in a plain case like this--for the Judge torequire the usual complaint made in writing and signed by threecitizens. 

Two men laid hold of the Canadian, and he turned ghastly white underhis tan. 

"Me? Me tief? You--let me alone!" He began to struggle. His terrifiedeyes rolling round the little cabin, fell on Butts. 

"I don' know but one tief in Minóok, " he said wildly, like a manwandering in a fever, and unconscious of having spoken, till he noticedthere was a diversion of some sort. People were looking at Butts. Asudden inspiration pierced the Canadian's fog of terror. 

"You know what Butts done to Jack McQuestion. You ain't forgot how hesneaked Jack's watch!" The incident was historic. 

Every eye on Butts. Charlie caught up breath and courage. 

"An' t'odder night w'en Maudie treat me like she done"--he shot ablazing glance at the double-dyed traitor--"I fixed it up with Butts. Got him to go soft on 'er and nab 'er ring. "

"You didn't!" shouted Maudie. 

With a shaking finger Charlie pointed out Jimmie, the cashier. 

"Didn't I tell you to weigh me out twenty dollars for Butts thatnight?"

"Right, " says Jimmie. 

"It was to square Butts fur gittin' that ring away from Maudie. "

"You put up a job like that on me?" To be fooled publicly was worsethan being robbed. 

Charlie paid no heed to her quivering wrath. The menace of thecotton-wood gallows outrivalled even Maudie and her moods. 

"Why should I pay Butts twenty dollars if I could work dat racketm'self? If I want expert work, I go to a man like Butts, who knows hisbusiness. I'm a miner--like the rest o' yer!"

The centre of gravity had shifted. It was very grave indeed in theneighbourhood of Mr. Butts. 

"Hold on, " said the Judge, forcing his way nearer to the man whosefingers had a renown so perilous. "'Cause a man plays a trick about agirl's ring don't prove he stole her money. This thing happened whilethe town was emptied out on the Little Minóok trail. Didn't you go offwith the rest yesterday morning?"

"No. "

"Ha!" gasped Maudie, as though this were conclusive--"had business intown, did you?"

Mr. Butts declined to answer. 

"You thought the gold-mine out on the gulch could wait--and thegold-mine in my cabin couldn't. "

"You lie!" remarked Mr. Butts. 

"What time did you get to Idaho Bar?" asked Corey. 

"Didn't get there at all. "

"Where were you?"

"Here in Rampart. "

"What?"

"Wait! Wait!" commanded the Judge, as the crowd rocked towards Butts:"P'raps you'll tell us what kept you at home?"

Butts shut his mouth angrily, but a glance at the faces nearest himmade him think an answer prudent. 

"I was tired. "

The men, many of them ailing, who had nearly killed themselves to getto Idaho Bar, sneered openly. 

"I'd been jumpin' a claim up at Hunter. "

"So had Charlie. But he joined the new stampede in the afternoon. "

"Well, I didn't. "

"Why, even the old cripple Jansen went on this stampede. "

"Can't help that. "

"Mr. Butts, you're the only able-bodied white man in the district thatstayed at home. " Corey spoke in his, most judicial style. 

Mr. Butts must have felt the full significance of so suspicious a fact, but all he said was:

"Y' ought to fix up a notice. Anybody that don't join a stampede willbe held guilty o' grand larceny. " Saying this Butts had backed a stepbehind the stove-pipe, and with incredible quickness had pulled out arevolver. But before he had brought it into range, No-Thumb-Jack hadstruck his arm down, and two or three had sprung at the weapon andwrested it away. 

"Search him!"

"No tellin' what else he's got!"

"----and he's so damned handy!"

"Search him!"

Maudie pressed forward as the pinioned man's pockets were turned out. Only tobacco, a small buckskin bag with less than four ounces of dust, a pipe, and a knife. 

"Likely he'd be carrying my stuff about on him!" said she, contemptuousof her own keen interest. 

"Get out a warrant to search Butts' premises, " said a voice in thecrowd. 

"McGinty and Johnson are down there now!"

"Think he'd leave anything layin' round?"

Maudie pressed still closer to the beleaguered Butts. 

"Say, if I make the boys let you go back to Circle, will you tell mewhere you've hid my money?"

"Ain't got your money!"

"Look at 'im, " whispered Charlie, still so terrified he could hardlystand. 

"Butts ain't borrowin' no trouble. "

And this formulating of the general impression did Butts no good. Asthey had watched the calm demeanour of the man, under suspicion of whatwas worse, in their eyes, than murder, there had come over thebystanders a wave of that primitive cruelty that to this hour will wakein modern men and cry as loud as in Judean days, or in the Saga timesof Iceland, "Retribution! Let him suffer! Let him pay in blood!" Andhere again, on the Yukon, that need of visible atonement to right thecrazy injustice of the earth. 

Even the women--the others had crowded in--were eager for Butts'instant expiation of the worst crime such a community knows. They toldone another excitedly how they'd realised all along it was only aquestion of time before Butts would be tryin' his game up here. Nobodywas safe. Luckily they were on to him. But look! He didn't care acurse. It would be a good night's job to make him care. 

Three men had hold of him, and everybody talked at once. Minnie Bryanwas sure she had seen him skulking round Maudie's after that lady hadgone up the trail, but everybody had been too excited about thestampede to notice particularly. 

The Judge and Bonsor were shouting and gesticulating, Butts answeringbitterly but quietly still. His face was pretty grim, but it looked asif he were the one person in the place who hadn't lost his head. Maudiewas still crying at intervals, and advertising to the newcomers thatwealth she had hitherto kept so dark, and between whiles she staredfixedly at Butts, as conviction of his guilt deepened to a rage to seehim suffer for his crime. 

She would rather have her nuggets back, but, failing that--let Buttspay! He owed her six thousand dollars. Let him pay!

The miners were hustling him to the door--to the Court House or to thecotton-wood--a toss-up which. 

"Look here!" cried out the Colonel; "McGinty and Johnson haven't gotback!"

Nobody listened. Justice had been sufficiently served in sending them. They had forced Butts out across the threshold, the crowd packed closebehind. The only men who had not pressed forward were Keith, theColonel, and the Boy, and No-Thumb-Jack, still standing by theoil-tank. 

"What are they going to do with him?" The Colonel turned to Keith withhorror in his face. 

Keith's eyes were on the Boy, who had stooped and picked up the blockof wood that had fitted over the treasure-hole. He was staring at itwith dilated eyes. Sharply he turned his head in the direction whereNo-Thumb-Jack had stood. Jack was just making for the door on the heelsof the last of those pressing to get out. 

The Boy's low cry was drowned in the din. He lunged forward, but theColonel gripped him. Looking up, he saw that Kentucky understood, andmeant somehow to manage the business quietly. 

Jack was trying, now right, now left, to force his way through thecongestion at the door, like a harried rabbit at a wattled fence. Atouch on the shoulder simultaneously with the click of a trigger at hisear brought his face round over his shoulder. He made the instinctivepioneer motion to his hip, looked into the bore of the Colonel'spistol, and under Keith's grip dropped his "gun-hand" with a smotheredoath. 

Or was it that other weapon in the Colonel's left that bleached theruddy face? Simply the block of wood. On the under side, dried in, likea faint stain, four muddy finger-prints, index joint lacking. Without aword the Colonel turned the upper side out. A smudge?--no--the grain ofhuman skin clean printed--a distorted palm without a thumb. Only oneman in Minóok could make that sign manual!

The last of the crowd were over the threshold now, and still no wordwas spoken by those who stayed behind, till the Colonel said to theBoy:

"Go with 'em, and look after Butts. Give us five minutes; more if youcan!"

He laid the block on a cracker-box, and, keeping pistol and eye stillon the thief, took his watch in his left hand, as the Boy shot throughthe door. 

Butts was making a good fight for his life, but he was becomingexhausted. The leading spirits were running him down the bank to wherea crooked cotton-wood leaned cautiously over the Never-Know-What, as ifto spy out the river's secret. 

But after arriving there, they were a little delayed for lack of whatthey called tackle. They sent a man off for it, and then sent anotherto hurry up the man. The Boy stood at the edge of the crowd, a littleabove them, watching Maudie's door, and with feverish anxiety turningevery few seconds to see how it was with Butts. 

Up in the cabin No-Thumb-Jack had pulled out of the usual capaciouspockets of the miner's brown-duck-pockets that fasten with a patentsnap--a tattered pocket-book, fat with bills. He plunged deeper andbrought up Pacific Coast eagles and five-dollar pieces, Canadian andAmerican gold that went rolling out of his maimed and nervous handacross the tablet to the scales and set the brass pans sawing up anddown. 

Keith, his revolver still at full cock, had picked up a trampled bit ofpaper near the stove. Corey's list. Left-handedly he piled up themoney, counting, comparing. 

"Quick! the dust!" ordered the Colonel. Out of a left hip-pocket along, tight-packed buckskin bag. Another from a side-pocket, half thesize and a quarter as full. 

"That's mine, " said Jack, and made a motion to recover. 

"Let it alone. Turn out everything. Nuggets!"

A miner's chamois belt unbuckled and flung heavily down. The scalesjingled and rocked; every pocket in the belt was stuffed. 

"Where's the rest?"

"There ain't any rest. That's every damned pennyweight. "

"Maybe we ought to weigh it, and see if he's lying?"

"'Fore God it's all! Let me go!" He had kept looking through the crackof the door. 

"Reckon it's about right, " said Keith. 

"'Tain't right! There's more there'n I took. My stuff's there too. ForChrist's sake, let me go!"

"Look here, Jack, is the little bag yours?"

Jack wet his dry lips and nodded "Yes. "

The Colonel snatched up the smaller bag and thrust it into the man'shands. Jack made for the door. The Colonel stopped him. 

"Better take to the woods, " he said, with a motion back towards thewindow. The Colonel opened the half-closed door and looked out, as Jackpushed aside the table, tore away the red curtain, hammered at thesash, then, desperate, set his shoulder at it and forced the wholething out. He put his maimed hand on the sill and vaulted after theshattered glass. 

They could see him going like the wind up towards his own shack at theedge of the wood, looking back once or twice, doubling and tacking tokeep himself screened by the haphazard, hillside cabins, out of sightof the lynchers down at the river. 

"Will you stay with this?" the Colonel had asked Keith hurriedly, nodding at the treasure-covered table, and catching up thefinger-marked block before Jack was a yard from the window. 

"Yes, " Keith had said, revolver still in hand and eyes on the manMinóok was to see no more. The Colonel met the Boy running breathlessup the bank. 

"Can't hold 'em any longer, " he shouted; "you're takin' it pretty easywhile a man's gettin' killed down here. "

"Stop! Wait!" The Colonel floundered madly through the slush and mud, calling and gesticulating, "I've got the thief!"

Presto all the backs of heads became faces. 

"Got the money?" screamed Maudie, uncovering her eyes. She had gone tothe execution, but after the rope was brought, her nerve failed her, and she was sobbing hysterically into her two palms held right over hereyes. 

"Oh, you had it, did you?" called out McGinty with easy insolence. 

"Look here!" The Colonel held up the bit of flooring with rapidexplanation. 

"Where is he?"

"Got him locked up?"

Everybody talked at once. The Colonel managed to keep them going forsome moments before he admitted. 

"Reckon he's lit out. " And then the Colonel got it hot and strong forhis clumsiness. 

"Which way'd he go?"

The Colonel turned his back to the North Pole, and made a fine largegesture in the general direction of the Equator. 

"Where's my money?"

"Up in your cabin. Better go and count it. "

A good many were willing to help since they'd been cheated out of ahanging, and even defrauded of a shot at a thief on the wing. Nobodyseemed to care to remain in the neighbourhood of the crookedcotton-wood. The crowd was dispersing somewhat sheepishly. 

Nobody looked at Butts, and yet he was a sight to see. His face and hisclothes were badly mauled. He was covered with mud and blood. When themen were interrupted in trying to get the noose over his head, he hadstood quite still in the midst of the crowd till it broke and meltedaway from him. He looked round, passed his hand over his eyes, threwopen his torn coat, and felt in his pockets. 

"Who's got my tobacco?" says he. 

Several men turned back suddenly, and several pouches were held out, but nobody met Butts' eyes. He filled his pipe, nor did his hand shakeany more than those that held the tobacco-bags. When he had lit up, "Who's got my Smith and Wesson?" he called out to the backs of theretiring citizens. Windy Jim stood and delivered. Butts walked away tohis cabin, swaying a little, as if he'd had more hootch than he couldcarry. 

"What would you have said, " demanded the Boy, "if you'd hung the wrongman?"

"Said?" echoed McGinty. "Why, we'd 'a' said that time the corpse hadthe laugh on us. " A couple of hours later Keith put an excited faceinto his shack, where the Colonel and the Boy were just crawling undertheir blankets. 

"Thought you might like to know, that Miners' Meeting that wasinterrupted is having an extra session. "

They followed him down to the Court through a fine rain. The night washeavy and thick. As they splashed along Keith explained:

"Of course, Charlie knew there wasn't room enough in Alaska now forButts and him; and he thought he'd better send Butts home. So he tookhis gun and went to call. "

"Don't tell me that poor devil's killed after all. "

"Not a bit. Butts is a little bunged up, but he's the handier man, evenso. He drew the first bead. "

"Charlie hurt?"

"No, he isn't hurt. He's dead. Three or four fellows had just lookedin, on the quiet, to kind of apologise to Butts. They're down atCorey's now givin' evidence against him. "

"So Butts'll have to swing after all. Is he in Court?"

"Yes--been a busy day for Butts. "

A confused noise came suddenly out of the big cabin they were nearing. They opened the door with difficulty, and forced their way into thereeking, crowded room for the second time that night. Everybody seemedto be talking--nobody listening. Dimly through dense clouds oftobacco-smoke "the prisoner at the Bar" was seen to be--what--no!Yes--shaking hands with the Judge. 

"Verdict already?"

"Oh, that kind o' case don't take a feller like Corey long. "

"What's the decision?"

"Prisoner discharged. Charlie Le Gros committed suicide. "

"Suicide!"

"--by goin' with his gun to Butts' shack lookin' f trouble. "

CHAPTER XIX

THE ICE GOES OUT

"I am apart of all that I have seen. "

It had been thawing and freezing, freezing and thawing, for so longthat men lost account of the advance of a summer coming, with suchbalked, uncertain steps. Indeed, the weather variations had for severalweeks been so great that no journey, not the smallest, could becalculated with any assurance. The last men to reach Minoók were twowho had made a hunting and prospecting trip to an outlying district. They had gone there in six days, and were nineteen in returning. 

The slush was waist-deep in the gulches. On the benches, in the snow, holes appeared, as though red-hot stones had been thrown upon thesurface. The little settlement by the mouth of the Minoók satinsecurely on the boggy hillside, and its inhabitants waded knee-deepin soaking tundra moss and mire. 

And now, down on the Never-Know-What, water was beginning to run on themarginal ice. Up on the mountains the drifted snow was honey-combed. Whole fields of it gave way and sunk a foot under any adventurous shoe. But although these changes had been wrought slowly, with backsets ofbitter nights, when everything was frozen hard as flint, the illusionwas general that summer came in with a bound. On the 9th of May, Minoókwent to bed in winter, and woke to find the snow almost gone under thelast nineteen hours of hot, unwinking sunshine, and the first geesewinging their way up the valley--sight to stir men's hearts. Strangerstill, the eight months' Arctic silence broken suddenly by a thousandvoices. Under every snow-bank a summer murmur, very faint at first, buthourly louder--the sound of falling water softly singing over all theland. 

As silence had been the distinguishing feature of the winter, so wasnoise the sign of the spring. No ear so dull but now was full of it. All the brooks on all the hills, tinkling, tumbling, babbling of somegreat and universal joy, all the streams of all the gulches joiningwith every little rill to find the old way, or to carve a new, back tothe Father of Waters. 

And the strange thing had happened on the Yukon. The shore-edges of theice seemed sunken, and the water ran yet deeper there. But of acertainty the middle part had risen! The cheechalkos thought it anoptical illusion. But old Brandt from Forty-Mile had seen the ice goout for two-and-twenty years, and he said it went out always so--"humpshis back, an' gits up gits, and when he's a gitten', jest look out!"Those who, in spite of warning, ventured in hip-boots down on theNever-Know-What, found that, in places, the under side of the ice wasworn nearly through. If you bent your head and listened, you couldplainly hear that greater music of the river running underneath, low asyet, but deep, and strangely stirring--dominating in the hearer's earsall the clear, high clamour from gulch and hill. 

In some men's hearts the ice "went out" at the sound, and the meltingwelled up in their eyes. Summer and liberty were very near. 

"Oh, hurry, Yukon Inua; let the ice go out and let the boats come in. "

But the next few days hung heavily. The river-ice humped its back stillhigher, but showed no disposition to "git. " The wonder was it did notcrack under the strain; but Northern ice ahs the air of being strangelyflexile. Several feet in depth, the water ran now along the margin. 

More geese and ducks appeared, and flocks of little birds--Canada jays, robins, joined the swelling chorus of the waters. 

Oh, hurry, hurry Inua, and open the great highway! Not at Minóok alone:at every wood camp, mining town and mission, at every white post andIndian village, all along the Yukon, groups were gathered waiting thegreat moment of the year. No one had ever heard of the ice breaking upbefore the 11th of May or later than the 28th. And yet men had begun tokeep a hopeful eye on the river from the 10th of April, when a whiteptarmigan was reported wearing a collar of dark-brown feathers, and hiswings tipped brown. That was a month ago, and the great moment couldnot possibly be far now. 

The first thing everybody did on getting up, and the last thingeverybody did on going to bed, was to look at the river. It was noteasy to go to bed; and even if you got so far it was not easy to sleep. The sun poured into the cabins by night as well as by day, and therewas nothing to divide one part of the twenty-four hours from another. You slept when you were too tired to watch the river. You breakfasted, like as not, at six in the evening; you dined at midnight. Through allyour waking hours you kept an eye on the window overlooking the river. In your bed you listened for that ancient Yukon cry, "The ice is goingout!"

For ages it had meant to the timid: Beware the fury of the shatteredice-fields; beware the caprice of the flood. Watch! lest many lives goout with the ice as aforetime. And for ages to the stout-hearted it hadmeant: Make ready the kyaks and the birch canoes; see that tackle andtraps are strong--for plenty or famine wait upon the hour. As the whitemen waited for boats to-day, the men of the older time had waited forthe salmon--for those first impatient adventurers that would forcetheir way under the very ice-jam, tenderest and best of the season'scatch, as eager to prosecute that journey from the ocean to theKlondyke as if they had been men marching after the gold boom. 

No one could settle to anything. It was by fits and starts that thesteadier hands indulged even in target practice, with a feverishsubconsciousness that events were on the way that might make itinconvenient to have lost the art of sending a bullet straight. After adiminutive tin can, hung on a tree, had been made to jump at a hundredpaces, the marksman would glance at the river and forget to fire. Itwas by fits and starts that they even drank deeper or played for higherstakes. 

The Wheel of Fortune, in the Gold Nugget, was in special demand. It wasa means of trying your luck with satisfactory despatch "between drinks"or between long bouts of staring at the river. Men stood inshirt-sleeves at their cabin doors in the unwinking sunshine, lookingup the valley or down, betting that the "first boat in" would be one ofthose nearest neighbours, May West or Muckluck, coming up fromWoodworth; others as ready to back heavily their opinion that the firstblast of the steam whistle would come down on the flood from Circle orfrom Dawson. 

The Colonel had bought and donned a new suit of "store clothes, " andurged on his companion the necessity of at least a whole pair ofbreeches in honour of his entrance into the Klondyke. But the Boy'sfunds were low and his vanity chastened. Besides, he had other businesson his mind. 

After sending several requests for the immediate return of his dog, requests that received no attention, the Boy went out to the gulch torecover him. Nig's new master paid up all arrears of wages readilyenough, but declined to surrender the dog. "Oh, no, the ice wasn'tthinkin' o' goin' out yit. "

"I want my dog. "

"You'll git him sure. "

"I'm glad you understand that much. "

"I'll bring him up to Rampart in time for the first boat. "

"Where's my dog?"

No answer. The Boy whistled. No Nig. Dread masked itself in choler. Hejumped on the fellow, forced him down, and hammered him till he criedfor mercy. 

"Where's my dog, then?"

"He--he's up to Idyho Bar, " whimpered the prostrate one. And there theBoy found him, staggering under a pair of saddle-bags, hired out toMike O'Reilly for a dollar and a half a day. Together they returned toRampart to watch for the boat. 

Certainly the ice was very late breaking up this year. The men ofRampart stood about in groups in the small hours of the morning of the16th of May; as usual, smoking, yarning, speculating, inventingelaborate joshes. Somebody remembered that certain cheechalkos had goneto bed at midnight. Now this was unprecedented, even impertinent. Ifthe river is not open by the middle of May, your Sour-dough may go tobed--only he doesn't. Still, he may do as he lists. But yourcheechalko--why, this is the hour of his initiation. It was as if a manshould yawn at his marriage or refuse to sleep at his funeral. Theoffenders were some of those Woodworth fellows, who, with a dozen or soothers, had built shacks below "the street" yet well above the river. At two in the morning Sour-dough Saunders knocked them up. 

"The ice is goin' out!"

In a flash the sleepers stood at the door. 

"Only a josh. " One showed fight. 

"Well, it's true what I'm tellin' yer, " persisted Saunders seriously:"the ice is goin' out, and it's goin' soon, and when you're washed outo' yer bunks ye needn't blame me, fur I warned yer. "

"You don't mean the flood'll come up here?"

"Mebbe you've arranged so she won't this year. "

The cheechalkos consulted. In the end, four of them occupied the nexttwo hours (to the infinite but masked amusement of the town) infloundering about in the mud, setting up tents in the boggy wood abovethe settlement, and with much pains transporting thither as many oftheir possessions as they did not lose in the bottomless pit of themire. 

When the business was ended, Minóok self-control gave way. Thecheechalkos found themselves the laughing-stock of the town. Theothers, who had dared to build down on the bank, but who "hadn't scaredworth a cent, " sauntered up to the Gold Nugget to enjoy the increasedesteem of the Sour-doughs, and the humiliation of the men who hadthought "the Yukon was goin' over the Ramparts this year--haw, haw!"

It surprises the average mind to discover that one of civilization'smost delicate weapons is in such use and is so potently dreaded amongthe roughest frontier spirits. No fine gentleman in a drawing-room, nosensitive girl, shrinks more from what Meredith calls "the comiclaugh, " none feels irony more keenly than your ordinary Americanpioneer. The men who had moved up into the soaking wood saw they hadrun a risk as great to them as the fabled danger of the river--the riskof the josher's irony, the dire humiliation of the laugh. If a man uphere does you an injury, and you kill him, you haven't after all takenthe ultimate revenge. You might have "got the laugh on him, " and lethim live to hear it. 

While all Minóok was "jollying" the Woodworth men, Maudie made one ofher sudden raids out of the Gold Nugget. She stood nearly up to theknees of her high rubber boots in the bog of "Main Street, " talkingearnestly with the Colonel. Keith and the Boy, sitting on a store boxoutside of the saloon, had looked on at the fun over the timidcheechalkos, and looked on now at Maudie and the Colonel. It crossedthe Boy's mind that they'd be putting up a josh on his pardner prettysoon, and at the thought he frowned. 

Keith had been saying that the old miners had nearly all got "squawed. "He had spoken almost superstitiously of the queer, lasting effect ofthe supposedly temporary arrangement. 

"No, they don't leave their wives as often as you'd expect, but in mostcases it seems to kill the pride of the man. He gives up all idea ofever going home, and even if he makes a fortune, they say, he stays onhere. And year by year he sinks lower and lower, till he's farther downin the scale of things human than his savage wife. "

"Yes, it's awful to think how the life up here can take the stiffeningout of a fella. "

He looked darkly at the two out there in the mud. Keith nodded. 

"Strong men have lain down on the trail this winter and cried. " But itwasn't that sort of thing the other meant. Keith followed his newfriend's glowering looks. 

"Yes. That's just the kind of man that gets taken in. "

"What?" said the Boy brusquely. 

"Just the sort that goes and marries some flighty creature. "

"Well, " said his pardner haughtily, "he could afford to marry 'aflighty creature. ' The Colonel's got both feet on the ground. " AndKeith felt properly snubbed. But what Maudie was saying to the Colonelwas:

"You're goin' up in the first boat, I s'pose?"

"Yes. "

"Looks like I'll be the only person left in Minóok. "

"I don't imagine you'll be quite alone. "

"No? Why, there's only between five and six hundred expectin' to boarda boat that'll be crowded before she gets here. "

"Does everybody want to go to Dawson?"

"Everybody except a few boomers who mean to stay long enough to playoff their misery on someone else before they move on. "

The Colonel looked a trifle anxious. 

"I hadn't thought of that. I suppose there will be a race for theboat. "

"There'll be a race all the way up the river for all the early boats. Ain't half enough to carry the people. But you look to me like you'llstand as good a chance as most, and anyhow, you're the one man I know, I'll trust my dough to. "

The Colonel stared. 

"You see, I want to get some money to my kiddie, an' besides, I gotm'self kind o' scared about keepin' dust in my cabin. I want it in abank, so's if I should kick the bucket (there'll be some pretty highrollin' here when there's been a few boats in, and my life's no betterthan any other feller's), I'd feel a lot easier if I knew the kiddie'dhave six thousand clear, even if I did turn up my toes. See?"

"A--yes--I see. But----"

The door of the cabin next the saloon opened suddenly. A graybeard witha young face came out rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He staredinterrogatively at the river, and then to the world in general:

"What time is it?"

"Half-past four. "

"Mornin' or evenin'?" and no one thought the question strange. 

Maudie lowered her voice. 

"No need to mention it to pardners and people. You don't want everyfeller to know you're goin' about loaded; but will you take my dust upto Dawson and get it sent to 'Frisco on the first boat?"

"The ice! the ice! It's moving!"

"The ice is going out!"

"Look! the ice!"

From end to end of the settlement the cry was taken up. People dartedout of cabins like beavers out of their burrows. Three littlehalf-breed Indian boys, yelling with excitement, tore past the GoldNugget, crying now in their mother's Minóok, now in their father'sEnglish, "The ice is going out!" From the depths of the store-boxwhereon his master had sat, Nig darted, howling excitedly and waving amuddy tail like a draggled banner, saying in Mahlemeut: "The ice isgoing out! The fish are coming in. " All the other dogs waked and gavetongue, running in and out among the huddled rows of people gathered onthe Ramparts. 

Every ear full of the rubbing, grinding noise that came up out of theYukon--noise not loud, but deep--an undercurrent of heavy sound. Asthey stood there, wide-eyed, gaping, their solid winter world began tomove. A compact mass of ice, three-quarters of a mile wide and fourmiles long, with a great grinding and crushing went down the valley. Some distance below the town it jammed, building with incrediblequickness a barrier twenty feet high. 

The people waited breathless. Again the ice-mass trembled. But thewatchers lifted their eyes to the heights above. Was that thunder inthe hills? No, the ice again; again crushing, grinding, to the lowaccompaniment of thunder that seemed to come from far away. 

Sections a mile long and half a mile wide were forced up, carried overthe first ice-pack, and summarily stopped below the barrier. Hugepieces, broken off from the sides, came crunching their way angrily upthe bank, as if acting on some independent impulse. There they sat, great fragments, glistening in the sunlight, as big as cabins. It wassomething to see them come walking up the shelving bank! Thecheechalkos who laughed before are contented now with running, leavingtheir goods behind. Sour-dough Saunders himself never dreamed the icewould push its way so far. 

In mid-channel a still unbroken sheet is bent yet more in the centre. Every now and then a wide crack opens near the margin, and the waterrushes out with a roar. Once more the mass is nearly still, and nowall's silent. Not till the water, dammed and thrown back by the ice, not until it rises many feet and comes down with a volume and momentumirresistible, will the final conflict come. 

Hour after hour the people stand there on the bank, waiting to see thebarrier go down. Unwillingly, as the time goes on, this one, that one, hurries away for a few minutes to prepare and devour a meal, backagain, breathless, upon rumour of that preparatory trembling, thatstrange thrilling of the ice. The grinding and the crushing had begunagain. 

The long tension, the mysterious sounds, the sense of some greatunbridled power at work, wrought on the steadiest nerves. People didthe oddest things. Down at the lower end of the town a couple ofminers, sick of the scurvy, had painfully clambered on theirroof--whether to see the sights or be out of harm's way, no one knew. The stingiest man in Minóok, who had refused to help them in theircabin, carried them food on the roof. A woman made and took them theYukon remedy for their disease. They sat in state in sight of all men, and drank spruce tea. 

By one o'clock in the afternoon the river had risen eight feet, but theice barrier still held. The people, worn out, went away to sleep. Allthat night the barrier held, though more ice came down and still thewater rose. Twelve feet now. The ranks of shattered ice along the shoreare claimed again as the flood widens and licks them in. Thecheechalkos' cabins are flooded to the caves. Stout fellows inhip-boots take a boat and rescue the scurvy-stricken from the roof. Andstill the barrier held. 

People began to go about their usual avocations. The empty Gold Nuggetfilled again. Men sat, as they had done all the winter, drinking, andreading the news of eight months before, out of soiled and tatteredpapers. 

Late the following day everyone started up at a new sound. Againminers, Indians, and dogs lined the bank, saw the piled ice massestremble, heard a crashing and grinding as of mountains of glass hurledtogether, saw the barrier give way, and the frozen wastes move down onthe bosom of the flood. Higher yet the water rose--the current raneight miles an hour. And now the ice masses were less enormous, morebroken. Somewhere far below another jam. Another long bout of waiting. 

Birds are singing everywhere. Between the white snowdrifts the Arcticmoss shows green and yellow, white flowers star the hills. 

Half the town is packed, ready to catch the boat at five minutes'notice. With door barred and red curtain down, Maudie is doing up hergold-dust for the Colonel to take to Dawson. The man who had washed itout of a Birch Creek placer, and "blowed it in fur the girl"--up on thehillside he sleeps sound. 

The two who had broken the record for winter travel on the Yukon, sideby side in the sunshine, on a plank laid across two mackerel firkins, sit and watch the brimming flood. They speak of the Big Chimney men, picture them, packed and waiting for the Oklahoma, wonder what theyhave done with Kaviak, and what the three months have brought them. 

"When we started out that day from the Big Chimney, we thought we'd bemade if only we managed to reach Minóok. "

"Well, we've got what we came for--each got a claim. "

"Oh, yes. "

"A good claim, too. "

"Guess so. "

"Don't you know the gold's there?"

"Yes; but where are the miners? You and I don't propose to spend thenext ten years in gettin' that gold out. "

"No; but there are plenty who would if we gave 'em the chance. All wehave to do is to give the right ones the chance. "

The Colonel wore an air of reflection. 

"The district will be opened up, " the Boy went on cheerfully, "andwe'll have people beggin' us to let 'em get out our gold, and givin' usthe lion's share for the privilege. "

"Do you altogether like the sound o' that?"

"I expect, like other people, I'll like the result. "

"We ought to see some things clearer than other people. We had ourlesson on the trail, " said the Colonel quietly. "Nobody ought ever tobe able to fool us about the power and the value of the individualapart from society. Seems as if association did make value. In theabsence of men and markets a pit full of gold is worth no more than apit full of clay. "

"Oh, yes; I admit, till the boats come in, we're poor men. "

"Nobody will stop here this summer--they'll all be racing on toDawson. "

"Dawson's 'It, ' beyond a doubt. "

The Colonel laughed a little ruefully. 

"We used to say Minóok. "

"I said Minóok, just to sound reasonable, but, of course, I meantDawson. "

And they sat there thinking, watching the ice-blocks meet, crash, godown in foam, and come up again on the lower reaches, the Boy idlyswinging the great Katharine's medal to and fro. In his buckskin pocketit has worn so bright it catches at the light like a coin fresh fromthe mint. 

No doubt Muckluck is on the river-bank at Pymeut; the one-eyed Prince, the story-teller Yagorsha, even Ol' Chief--no one will be indoorsto-day. 

Sitting there together, they saw the last stand made by the ice, andshared that moment when the final barrier, somewhere far below, gaveway with boom and thunder. The mighty flood ran free, tearing up treesby their roots as it ran, detaching masses of rock, dissolving islandsinto swirling sand and drift, carving new channels, making and unmakingthe land. The water began to fall. It had been a great time: it wasended. 

"Pardner, " says the Colonel, "we've seen the ice go out. "

"No fella can call you and me cheechalkos after to-day. "

"No, sah. We've travelled the Long Trail, we've seen the ice go out, and we're friends yet. "

The Kentuckian took his pardner's brown hand with a gentle solemnity, seemed about to say something, but stopped, and turned his bronzed faceto the flood, carried back upon some sudden tide within himself tothose black days on the trail, that he wanted most in the world toforget. But in his heart he knew that all dear things, all things kindand precious--his home, a woman's face--all, all would fade before heforgot those last days on the trail. The record of that journey wasburnt into the brain of the men who had made it. On that stretch of theLong Trail the elder had grown old, and the younger had forever losthis youth. Not only had the roundness gone out of his face, not onlywas it scarred, but such lines were graven there as commonly takes theantique pencil half a score of years to trace. 

"Something has happened, " the Colonel said quite low. "We aren't thesame men who left the Big Chimney. "

"Right!" said the Boy, with a laugh, unwilling as yet to accept his ownpersonal revelation, preferring to put a superficial interpretation onhis companion's words. He glanced at the Colonel, and his face changeda little. But still he would not understand. Looking down at thechaparejos that he had been so proud of, sadly abbreviated to makeboots for Nig, jagged here and there, and with fringes now not allintentional, it suited him to pretend that the "shaps" had sufferedmost. 

"Yes, the ice takes the kinks out. "

"Whether the thing that's happened is good or evil, I don't pretend tosay, " the other went on gravely, staring at the river. "I only knowsomething's happened. There were possibilities--in me, anyhow--thathave been frozen to death. Yes, we're different. "

The Boy roused himself, but only to persist in his misinterpretation. 

"You ain't different to hurt. If I started out again tomorrow----"

"The Lord forbid!"

"Amen. But if I had to, you're the only man in Alaska--in theworld--I'd want for my pardner. "

"Boy----!" he wrestled with a slight bronchial huskiness, cleared histhroat, tried again, and gave it up, contenting himself with, "Beg yourpardon for callin' you 'Boy. ' You're a seasoned old-timer, sah. " Andthe Boy felt as if some Sovereign had dubbed him Knight. 

In a day or two now, from north or south, the first boat must appear. The willows were unfolding their silver leaves. The alder-buds werebursting; geese and teal and mallard swarmed about the river margin. Especially where the equisetae showed the tips of their feathery greentails above the mud, ducks flocked and feasted. People were tooexcited, "too busy, " they said, looking for the boats, to do muchshooting. The shy birds waxed daring. Keith, standing by his shack, knocked over a mallard within forty paces of his door. 

It was eight days after that first cry, "The ice is going out!" foursince the final jam gave way and let the floes run free, that at oneo'clock in the afternoon the shout went up, "A boat! a boat!"

Only a lumberman's bateau, but two men were poling her down the currentwith a skill that matched the speed. They swung her in. A dozen handscaught at the painter and made fast. A young man stepped ashore andintroduced himself as Van Alen, Benham's "Upper River pardner, on theway to Anvik. "

His companion, Donovan, was from Circle City, and brought appallingnews. The boats depended on for the early summer traffic, Bella, andthree other N. A. T. And T. Steamers, as well as the A. C. 's Victoria andthe St. Michael, had been lifted up by the ice "like so many feathers, "forced clean out of the channel, and left high and dry on a sandyridge, with an ice wall eighty feet wide and fifteen high between themand open water. 

"All the crews hard at work with jackscrews, " said Donovan; "and ifthey can get skids under, and a channel blasted through the ice, theymay get the boats down here in fifteen or twenty days. "

A heavy blow. But instantly everyone began to talk of the May West andthe Muckluck as though all along they had looked for succour to comeup-stream rather than down. But as the precious hours passed, a deepdejection fastened on the camp. There had been a year when, through onedisaster after another, no boats had got to the Upper River. Not eventhe arrival from Dawson of the Montana Kid, pugilist and gambler, couldraise spirits so cast down, not even though he was said to bringstrange news from outside. 

There was war in the world down yonder--war had been formally declaredbetween America and Spain. 

Windy slapped his thigh in humourous despair. 

"Why hadn't he thought o' gettin' off a josh like that?"

To those who listened to the Montana Kid, to the fretted spirits of meneight months imprisoned, the States and her foreign affairs were faraway indeed, and as for the other party to the rumoured war--Spain?They clutched at school memories of Columbus, Americans finding throughhim the way to Spain, as through him Spaniards had found the way toAmerica. So Spain was not merely a State historic! She was still in theactive world. But what did these things matter? Boats mattered: theplace where the Klondykers were caught, this Minóok, mattered. And sodid the place they wanted to reach--Dawson mattered most of all. By thenarrowed habit of long months, Dawson was the centre of the universe. 

More little boats going down, and still nothing going up. Men saidgloomily:

"We're done for! The fellows who go by the Canadian route will geteverything. The Dawson season will be half over before we're in thefield--if we ever are!"

The 28th of May! Still no steamer had come, but the mosquitoeshad--bloodthirsty beyond any the temperate climates know. It was clearthat some catastrophe had befallen the Woodworth boats. And Nig hadbeen lured away by his quondam master! No, they had not gone back tothe gulch--that was too easy. The man had a mind to keep the dog, and, since he was not allowed to buy him, he would do the other thing. 

He had not been gone an hour, rumour said--had taken a scow andprovisions, and dropped down the river. Utterly desperate, the Boyseized his new Nulato gun and somebody else's canoe. Without so much asinquiring whose, he shot down the swift current after the dog-thief. Heroared back to the remonstrating Colonel that he didn't care if anup-river steamer did come while he was gone--he was goin' gunnin'. 

At the same time he shared the now general opinion that a Lower Riverboat would reach them first, and he was only going to meet her, metingjustice by the way. 

He had gone safely more than ten miles down, when suddenly, as he waspassing an island, he stood up in his boat, balanced himself, andcocked his gun. 

Down there, on the left, a man was standing knee-deep in the water, trying to free his boat from a fallen tree; a Siwash dog watched himfrom the bank. 

The Boy whistled. The dog threw up his nose, yapped and whined. The manhad turned sharply, saw his enemy and the levelled gun. He jumped intothe boat, but she was filling while he bailed; the dog ran along theisland, howling fit to raise the dead. When he was a little above theBoy's boat he plunged into the river. Nig was a good swimmer, but thecurrent here would tax the best. The Boy found himself so occupied withsaving Nig from a watery grave, while he kept the canoe from capsizing, that he forgot all about the thief till a turn in the river shut himout of sight. 

The canoe was moored, and while trying to restrain Nig's drippingcaresses, his master looked up, and saw something queer off there, above the tops of the cottonwoods. As he looked he forgot thedog--forgot everything in earth or heaven except that narrow cloudwavering along the sky. He sat immovable in the round-shoulderedattitude learned in pulling a hand-sled against a gale from the Pole. If you are moderately excited you may start, but there is an excitementthat "nails you. "

Nig shook his wolf's coat and sprayed the water far and wide, madelittle joyful noises, and licked the face that was so still. But hismaster, like a man of stone, stared at that long gray pennon in thesky. If it isn't a steamer, what is it? Like an echo out of some lessonhe had learned and long forgot, "Up-bound boats don't run the channel:they have to hunt for easy water. " Suddenly he leaped up. The canoetipped, and Nig went a second time into the water. Well for him thatthey were near the shore; he could jump in without help this time. Nohand held out, no eye for him. His master had dragged the painter free, seized the oars, and, saying harshly, "Lie down, you black devil!" hepulled back against the current with every ounce he had in him. For thegray pennon was going round the other side of the island, and the Boywas losing the boat to Dawson. 

Nig sat perkily in the bow, never budging till his master, running intothe head of the island, caught up a handful of tough root fringes, and, holding fast by them, waved his cap, and shouted like one possessed, let go the fringes, caught up his gun, and fired. Then Nig, realisingthat for once in a way noise seemed to be popular, pointed his nose atthe big object hugging the farther shore, and howled with a rightgoodwill. 

"They see! They see! Hooray!"

The Boy waved his arms, embraced Nig, then snatched up the oars. Thesteamer's engines were reversed; now she was still. The Boy pulledlustily. A crowded ship. Crew and passengers pressed to the rails. Thesteamer canted, and the Captain's orders rang out clear. Severalcheechalkos laid their hands on their guns as the wild fellow in theragged buckskins shot round the motionless wheel, and brought his canoe'long-side, while his savage-looking dog still kept the echoes of theLower Ramparts calling. 

"Three cheers for the Oklahoma!"

At the sound of the Boy's voice a red face hanging over the stern brokeinto a broad grin. 

"Be the Siven! Air ye the little divvle himself, or air ye the divvle'sgran'fatherr?"

The apparition in the canoe was making fast and preparing to board theship. 

"Can't take another passenger. Full up!" said the Captain. He couldn'thear what was said in reply, but he shook his head. "Been refusin' 'emright along. " Then, as if reproached by the look in the wild youngface, "We thought you were in trouble. "

"So I am if you won't----"

"I tell you we got every ounce we can carry. "

"Oh, take me back to Minóok, anyway!"

He said a few words about fare to the Captain's back. As that magnatedid not distinctly say "No"--indeed, walked off making conversationwith the engineer--twenty hands helped the new passenger to get Nig andthe canoe on board. 

"Well, got a gold-mine?" asked Potts. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Where's the Colonel?" Mac rasped out, with his square jaw set forjudgment. 

"Colonel's all right--at Minóok. We've got a gold-mine apiece. "

"Anny gowld in 'em?"

"Yes, sir, and no salt, neither. "

"Sorry to see success has gone to your head, " drawled Potts, eyeing theBoy's long hair. "I don't see any undue signs of it elsewhere. "

"Faith! I do, thin. He's turned wan o' thim hungry, grabbin'millionaires. "

"What makes you think that?" laughed the Boy, poking his brown fingersthrough the knee-hole of his breeches. 

"Arre ye contint wid that gowld-mine at Minóok? No, be the Siven!What's wan gowld-mine to a millionaire? What forr wud ye be prospectinthat desert oiland, you and yer faithful man Froyday, if ye wasn'trooned intoirely be riches?"

The Boy tore himself away from his old friends, and followed thearbiter of his fate. The engines had started up again, and they weregoing on. 

"I'm told, " said the Captain rather severely, "that Minóok's a bustedcamp. "

"Oh, is it?" returned the ragged one cheerfully. Then he rememberedthat this Captain Rainey had grub-staked a man in the autumn--a man whowas reported to know where to look for the Mother Lode, the mightyparent of the Yukon placers. "I can tell you the facts about Minóok. "He followed the Captain up on the hurricane-deck, giving him detailsabout the new strike, and the wonderful richness of Idaho Bar. "Nobodywould know about it to-day, but that the right man went prospectingthere. " (One in the eye for whoever said Minóok was "busted, " andanother for the prospector Rainey had sent to look for----) "You see, men like Pitcairn have given up lookin' for the Mother Lode. They sayyou might as well look for Mother Eve; you got to make out with herdescendants. Yukon gold, Pitcairn says, comes from an older rock seriesthan this"--he stood in the shower of sparks constantly spraying fromthe smoke-stack to the fireproof deck, and he waved his hand airily atthe red rock of the Ramparts--"far older than any of these. The gold uphere has all come out o' rock that went out o' the rock businessmillions o' years ago. Most o' that Mother Lode the miners are lookin'for is sand now, thirteen hundred miles away in Norton Sound. "

"Just my luck, " said the Captain gloomily, going a little for'ard, asthough definitely giving up mining and returning to his own properbusiness. 

"But the rest o' the Mother Lode, the gold and magnetic iron, was tooheavy to travel. That's what's linin' the gold basins o' theNorth--linin' Idaho Bar thick. "

The Captain sighed. 

"Twelve, " a voice sang out on the lower deck. 

"Twelve, " repeated the Captain. 

"Twelve, " echoed the pilot at the wheel. 

"Twelve and a half, " from the man below, a tall, lean fellow, castingthe sounding-pole. With a rhythmic nonchalance he plants the long blackand white staff at the ship's side, draws it up dripping, plunges itdown again, draws it up, and sends it down hour after hour. He neverseems to tire; he never seems to see anything but the water-mark, neverto say anything but what he is chanting now, "Twelve and a half, " orsome variation merely numerical. You come to think him as little humanas the calendar, only that his numbers are told off with thesignificance of sound, the suggested menace of a cry. If the "sounding"comes too near the steamer's draught, or the pilot fails to hear thereading, the Captain repeats it. He often does so when there is noneed; it is a form of conversation, noncommittal, yet smacking ofauthority. 

"Ten. "

"Ten, " echoed the pilot, while the Captain was admitting that he hadbeen mining vicariously "for twenty years, and never made a cent. Always keep thinkin' I'll soon be able to give up steamboatin' and buya farm. "

He shook his head as one who sees his last hope fade. 

But his ragged companion turned suddenly, and while the sparks fell ina fresh shower, "Well, Captain, " says he, "you've got the chance ofyour life right now. "

"Ten and a half. "

"Just what they've all said. Wish I had the money I've wasted ongrub-stakin'. "

The ragged one thrust his hands in the pockets of his chaparejos. 

"I grub-staked myself, and I'm very glad I did. "

"Nobody in with you?"

"No. "

"Nine. "

Echo, "Nine. "

"Ten. "

"Pitcairn says, somehow or other, there's been gold-washin' goin' on uphere pretty well ever since the world began. "

"Indians?"

"No; seems to have been a bigger job than even white men could manage. Instead o' stamp-mills, glaciers grindin' up the Mother Lode; insteado' little sluice-boxes, rivers; instead o' riffles, gravel bottoms. Work, work, wash, wash, day and night, every summer for a millionyears. Never a clean-up since the foundation of the world. No, sir, waitin' for us to do that--waitin' now up on Idaho Bar. "

The Captain looked at him, trying to conceal the envy in his soul. Theywere sounding low water, but he never heard. He looked round sharply asthe course changed. 

"I've done my assessment, " the ragged man went on joyously, "and I'mgoing to Dawson. "

This was bad navigation. He felt instantly he had struck a snag. TheCaptain smiled, and passed on sounding: "Nine and a half. "

"But I've got a fortune on the Bar. I'm not a boomer, but I believe inthe Bar. "

"Six. "

"Six. Gettin' into low water. "

Again the steamer swung out, hunting a new channel. 

"Pitcairn's opinion is thought a lot of. The Geologic Survey men listento Pitcairn. He helped them one year. He's one of those extraordinaryold miners who can tell from the look of things, without even panning. When he saw that pyrites on Idaho Bar he stopped dead. 'This looks goodto me!' he said, and, Jee-rusalem! it was good!"

They stared at the Ramparts growing bolder, the river hurrying like amill-race, the steamer feeling its way slow and cautiously like a blindman with a stick. 

"Seven. "

"Seven. "

"Seven. "

"Six and a half. "

"Pitcairn says gold is always thickest on the inside of an elbow orturn in the stream. It's in a place like that my claim is. "

The steamer swerved still further out from the course indicated on thechart. The pilot was still hunting a new channel, but still the Captainstood and listened, and it was not to the sounding of the Yukon Bar. 

"They say there's no doubt about the whole country being glaciated. "

"Hey?"

"Signs of glacial erosion everywhere. "

The Captain looked sharply about as if his ship might be in some newdanger. 

"No doubt the gold is all concentrates. "

"Oh, is that so?" He seemed relieved on the whole. 

"Eight and a half, " from below. 

"Eight and a half, " from the Captain. 

"Eight and a half, " from the pilot-house. 

"Concentrates, eh?"

Something arresting, rich-sounding, in the news--a triple essence ofthe perfume of riches. 

With the incantation of technical phrase over the witch-brew ofadventure, gambling, and romance, that simmers in the mind when mentell of finding gold in the ground, with the addition of this salt ofscience comes a savour of homely virtue, an aroma promising sustenanceand strength. It confounds suspicion and sees unbelief, first weaken, and at last do reverence. There is something hypnotic in theterminology. Enthusiasm, even backed by fact, will scare off yourpractical man, who yet will turn to listen to the theory of "themechanics of erosion" and one of its proofs--"up there before our eyes, the striation of the Ramparts. "

But Rainey was what he called "an old bird. " His squinted pilot-eyecame back from the glacier track and fell on the outlandish figure ofhis passenger. And with an inward admiration of his quality of extremeold-birdness, the Captain struggled against the trance. 

"Didn't I hear you say something about going to Dawson?"

"Y-yes. I think Dawson'll be worth seeing. "

"Holy Moses, yes! There's never been anything like Dawson before. "

"And I want to talk to the big business men there. I'm not a minermyself. I mean to put my property on the market. " As he said the wordsit occurred to him unpleasantly how very like McGinty they sounded. Buthe went on: "I didn't dream of spending so much time up here as I'veput in already. I've got to get back to the States. "

"You had any proposition yet?" The Captain led the way to his privateroom. 

"About my claim? Not yet; but once I get it on the market----"

So full was he of a scheme of his own he failed to see that he had noneed to go to Dawson for a buyer. 

The Captain set out drinks, and still the talk was of the Bar. It hadcome now to seem impossible, even to an old bird, that, given thoseexact conditions, gold should not be gathered thick along that Bar. 

"I regard it as a sure thing. Anyhow, it's recorded, and theassessment's done. All the district wants now is capital to developit. "

"Districts like that all over the map, " said the old bird, with a finalflutter of caution. "Even if the capital's found--if everything's readyfor work, the summer's damn short. But if it's a question of goin'huntin' for the means of workin'----"

"There's time, " returned the other quietly, "but there's none to waste. You take me and my pardner----"

"Thought you didn't have a pardner, " snapped the other, hot over suchduplicity. 

"Not in ownership; he's got another claim. But you take my pardner andme to Dawson----"

The Captain stood on his legs and roared:

"I can't, I tell you!"

"You can if you will--you will if you want that farm!"

Rainey gaped. 

"Take us to Dawson, and I'll get a deed drawn up in Minóok turning overone-third of my Idaho Bar property to John R. Rainey. "

John R. Rainey gaped the more, and then finding his tongue:

"No, no. I'd just as soon come in on the Bar, but it's true what I'mtellin' you. There simply ain't an unoccupied inch on the Oklahoma thistrip. It's been somethin' awful, the way I've been waylaid and prayedat for a passage. People starvin' with bags o' money waitin' for 'em atthe Dawson Bank! Settlements under water--men up in trees callin' to usto stop for the love of God--men in boats crossin' our channel, headin'us off, thinkin' nothin' o' the risk o' bein' run down. 'Take us toDawson!' it's the cry for fifteen hundred miles. "

"Oh, come! you stopped for me. "

The Captain smiled shrewdly. 

"I didn't think it necessary at the time to explain. We'd struck bottomjust then--new channel, you know; it changes a lot every time the icegoes out and the floods come down. I reversed our engines and went upto talk to the pilot. We backed off just after you boarded us. I musthave been rattled to take you even to Minóok. "

"No. It was the best turn you've done yourself in a long while. "

The Captain shook his head. It was true: the passengers of the Oklahomawere crowded like cattle on a Kansas stock-car. He knew he ought tounload and let a good portion wait at Minóok for that unknown quantitythe next boat. He would issue the order, but that he knew it would meana mutiny. 

"I'll get into trouble for overloading as it is. "

"You probably won't; people are too busy up here. If you do, I'mofferin' you a good many thousand dollars for the risk. "

"God bless my soul! where'd I put you? There ain't a bunk. "

"I've slept by the week on the ice. "

"There ain't room to lie down. "

"Then we'll stand up. "

Lord, Lord! what could you do with such a man? Owner of Idaho Bar, too. "Mechanics of erosion, " "Concentrates, " "a third interest"--it all rangin his head. "I've got nine fellers sleepin' in here, " he saidhelplessly, "in my room. "

"Can we come if we find our own place, and don't trouble you?"

"Well, I won't have any pardner--but perhaps you----"

"Oh, pardner's got to come too. "

Whatever the Captain said the nerve-tearing shriek of the whistledrowned. It was promptly replied to by the most horrible howls. 

"Reckon that's Nig! He's got to come too, " said this dreadful raggedman. 

"God bless me, this must be Minóok!"

The harassed Captain hustled out. 

"You must wait long enough here to get that deed drawn, Captain!"called out the other, as he flew down the companionway. 

Nearly six hundred people on the bank. Suddenly controlling hiseagerness, the Boy contented himself with standing back and staringacross strange shoulders at the place he knew so well. There was "theworst-lookin' shack in the town, " that had been his home, the A. C. Store looming importantly, the Gold Nugget, and hardly a face to whichhe could not give a name and a history: Windy Jim and the crippledSwede; Bonsor, cheek by jowl with his enemy, McGinty; Judge Coreyspitting straight and far; the gorgeous bartender, all checks anddiamonds, in front of a pitiful group of the scurvy-stricken (thirty ofthem in the town waiting for rescue by the steamer); Butts, quitebland, under the crooked cottonwood, with never a thought of how nearhe had come, on that very spot, to missing the first boat of the year, and all the boats of all the years to follow. 

Maudie, Keith and the Colonel stood with the A. C. Agent at the end ofthe baggage-bordered plank-walk that led to the landing. Behind them, at least four hundred people packed and waiting with their possessionsat their feet, ready to be put aboard the instant the Oklahoma madefast. The Captain had called out "Howdy" to the A. C. Agent, andseveral greetings were shouted back and forth. Maudie mounted a hugepile of baggage and sat there as on a throne, the Colonel and Keithperching on a heap of gunny-sacks at her feet. That woman almost theonly person in sight who did not expect, by means of the Oklahoma, toleave misery behind! The Boy stood thinking "How will they bear it whenthey know?"

The Oklahoma was late, but she was not only the first boat--she mightconceivably be the last. 

Potts and O'Flynn had spotted the man they were looking for, and calledout "Hello! Hello!" as the big fellow on the pile of gunnies got up andwaved his hat. 

Mac leaned over the rail, saying gruffly, "That you, Colonel?" trying, as the Boss of the Big Chimney saw--"tryin' his darndest not to lookpleased, " and all the while O'Flynn was waving his hat and howling withexcitement:

"How's the gowld? How's yersilf?"

The gangway began its slow swing round preparatory to lowering intoplace. The mob on shore caught up boxes, bundles, bags, and pressedforward. 

"No, no! Stand back!" ordered the Captain. 

"Take your time!" said people trembling with excitement. "There's norush. "

"There's no room!" called out the purser to a friend. 

"No room?" went from mouth to mouth, incredulous that the informationcould concern the speaker. He was only one. There was certainly roomfor him; and every man pushed the harder to be the sole exception tothe dreadful verdict. 

"Stand back there! Can't take even a pound of freight. Loaded to theguards!"

A whirlwind of protest and appeal died away in curses. Women wept, andsick men turned away their faces. The dogs still howled, for nothing isso lacerating to the feelings of your Siwash as a steam-whistle blast. The memory of it troubles him long after the echo of it dies. Suddenlyabove the din Maudie's shrill voice:

"I thought that was Nig!"

Before the gangway had dropped with a bang her sharp eyes had pickedout the Boy. 

"Well I'll be----See who that is behind Nig? Trust him to get in on theground-floor. He ain't worryin' for fear his pardner'll lose the boat, "she called to the Colonel, who was pressing forward as Rainey came downthe gangway. 

"How do you do, Captain?"

The man addressed never turned his head. He was forcing his way throughthe jam up to the A. C. Store. 

"You may recall me, sah; I am----"

"If you are a man wantin' to go to Dawson, it doesn't matter who youare. I can't take you. "

"But, sah----" It was no use. 

A dozen more were pushing their claims, every one in vain. The Oklahomapassengers, bent on having a look at Minóok, crowded after the Captain. Among those who first left the ship, the Boy, talking to the purser, hard upon Rainey's heels. The Colonel stood there as they passed, theCaptain turning back to say something to the Boy, and then theydisappeared together through the door of the A. C. 

Never a word for his pardner, not so much as a look. Bitterness fellupon the Colonel's heart. Maudie called to him, and he went back to hisseat on the gunny-sacks. 

"He's in with the Captain now, " she said; "he's got no more use forus. "

But there was less disgust than triumph in her face. 

O'Flynn was walking over people in his frantic haste to reach theColonel. Before he could accomplish his design he had three separatequarrels on his hands, and was threatening with fury to "settle thehash" of several of his dearest new friends. 

Potts meanwhile was shaking the Big Chimney boss by the hand andsaying, "Awfully sorry we can't take you on with us;" adding lower: "Wehad a mighty mean time after you lit out. "

Then Mac thrust his hand in between the two, and gave the Colonel amonkey-wrench grip that made the Kentuckian's eyes water. 

"Kaviak? Well, I'll tell you. "

He shouldered Potts out of his way, and while the talk and movementwent on all round Maudie's throne, Mac, ignoring her, set forth grimlyhow, after an awful row with Potts, he had adventured with Kaviak toHoly Cross. "An awful row, indeed, " thought the Colonel, "to bring Macto that;" but the circumstances had little interest for him, beside thefact that his pardner would be off to Dawson in a few minutes, leavinghim behind and caring "not a sou markee. "

Mac was still at Holy Cross. He had seen a woman there--"calls herselfa nun--evidently swallows those priests whole. Kind of mad, believes itall. Except for that, good sort of girl. The kind to keep herword"--and she had promised to look after Kaviak, and never let himaway from her till Mac came back to fetch him. 

"Fetch him?"

"Fetch him!"

"Fetch him where?"

"Home!"

"When will that be?"

"Just as soon as I've put through the job up yonder. " He jerked hishead up the river, indicating the common goal. 

And now O'Flynn, roaring as usual, had broken away from those who hadobstructed his progress, and had flung himself upon the Colonel. Whenthe excitement had calmed down a little, "Well, " said the Colonel tothe three ranged in front of him, Maudie looking on from above, "whatyou been doin' all these three months?"

"Doin'?"

"Well--a----"

"Oh, we done a lot. "

They looked at one another out of the corners of their eyes and thenthey looked away. "Since the birds came, " began Mac in the tone of onewho wishes to let bygones be bygones. 

"Och, yes; them burruds was foine!"

Potts pulled something out of his trousers pocket----a strangecollapsed object. He took another of the same description out ofanother pocket. Mac's hands and O'Flynn's performed the same action. Each man seemed to have his pockets full of these----

"What are they?"

"Money-bags, me bhoy! Made out o' the fut o' the 'Lasky swan, God bless'em! Mac cahls 'em some haythen name, but everybuddy else cahls 'emillegant money-bags!"

 * * * * *

In less than twenty minutes the steamer whistle shrieked. Nig boundedout of the A. C. , frantic at the repetition of the insult; other dogstook the quarrel up, and the Ramparts rang. 

The Boy followed the Captain out of the A. C. Store. All the motleycrew that had swarmed off to inspect Minóok, swarmed back upon theOklahoma. The Boy left the Captain this time, and came briskly over tohis friends, who were taking leave of the Colonel. 

"So you're all goin' on but me!" said the Colonel very sadly. 

The Colonel's pardner stopped short, and looked at the pile of baggage. 

"Got your stuff all ready!" he said. 

"Yes. " The answer was not free from bitterness. "I'll have the pleasureof packin' it back to the shack after you're gone. "

"So you were all ready to go off and leave me, " said the Boy. 

The Colonel could not stoop to the obvious retort. His pardner cameround the pile and his eyes fell on their common sleeping-bag, the twoNulato rifles, and other "traps, " that meant more to him than anyobjects inanimate in all the world. 

"What? you were goin' to carry off my things too?" exclaimed the Boy. 

"That's all you get, " Maudie burst out indignantly--"all you get forpackin' his stuff down to the landin', to have it all ready for him, and worryin' yourself into shoe-strings for fear he'd miss the boat. "

Mac, O'Flynn, and Potts condoled with the Colonel, while the fire ofthe old feud flamed and died. 

"Yes, " the Colonel admitted, "I'd give five hundred dollars for aticket on that steamer. "

He looked in each of the three faces, and knew the vague hope behindhis words was vain. But the Boy had only laughed, and caught up thebaggage as the last whistle set the Rampart echoes flying, piping, likea lot of frightened birds. 

"Come along, then. "

"Look here!" the Colonel burst out. "That's my stuff. "

"It's all the same. You bring mine. I've got the tickets. You and meand Nig's goin' to the Klondyke. "

CHAPTER XX

THE KLONDYKE

"Poverty is an odious calling. "--Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. 

On Monday morning, the 6th of June, they crossed the British line; butit was not till Wednesday, the 8th, at four in the afternoon, just tenmonths after leaving San Francisco, that the Oklahoma's passengers sawbetween the volcanic hills on the right bank of the Yukon a stretch ofboggy tundra, whereon hundreds of tents gleamed, pink and saffron. Justbeyond the bold wooded height, wearing the deep scar of a landslide onits breast, just round that bend, the Klondyke river joins theYukon--for this is Dawson, headquarters of the richest Placer Diggingsthe world has seen, yet wearing more the air of a great armyencampment. 

For two miles the river-bank shines with sunlit canvas--tents, tentseverywhere, as far as eye can see, a mushroom growth masking the oldercabins. The water-front swarms with craft, scows and canoes, birch, canvas, peterboro; the great bateaux of the northern lumberman, neatlittle skiffs, clumsy rafts; heavy "double-enders, " whip-sawed fromgreen timber, with capacity of two to five tons; lighters and bargescarrying as much as forty tons--all having come through the perils ofthe upper lakes and shot the canon rapids. 

As the Oklahoma steams nearer, the town blossoms into flags; a greatmurmur increases to a clamour; people come swarming down to thewater-front, waving Union Jacks and Stars and Stripes as well----Whatdoes it all mean? A cannon booms, guns are fired, and as the Oklahomaswings into the bank a band begins to play; a cheer goes up fromfifteen thousand throats: "Hurrah for the first steamer!"

The Oklahoma has opened the Klondyke season of 1898!

They got their effects off the boat, and pitched the old tent up on theMoosehide; then followed days full to overflowing, breathless, fevered, yet without result beyond a general stringing up of nerves. The specialspell of Dawson was upon them all--the surface aliveness, the innerdeadness, the sense of being cut off from all the rest of the world, asisolated as a man is in a dream, with no past, no future, only afantastic, intensely vivid Now. This was the summer climate of theKlondyke. The Colonel, the Boy, and Captain Rainey maintained theillusion of prosecuting their affairs by frequenting the offices, stores, and particularly saloons, where buyers and sellers most didcongregate. Frequent mention was made of a certain valuable piece ofproperty. 

Where was it?

"Down yonder at Minóok;" and then nobody cared a straw. 

It was true there was widespread dissatisfaction with the Klondyke. Everyone agreed it had been overdone. It would support one-quarter ofthe people already here, and tens of thousands on their way! "SayKlondyke, and instantly your soberest man goes mad; say anything else, and he goes deaf. "

Minóok was a good camp, but it had the disadvantage of lying outsidethe magic district. The madness would, of course, not last, butmeanwhile the time went by, and the people poured in day and night. Sixgreat steamers full came up from the Lower River, and still the smallcraft kept on flocking like coveys of sea-fowl through the Upper Lakes, each party saying, "The crowd is behind. "

On the 14th of June a toy whistle sounded shrill above the town, and inpuffed a Liliputian "steel-hull" steamer that had actually come "on herown" through the canon and shot the White Horse Rapids. A steamer fromthe Upper River! after that, others. Two were wrecked, but who minded?And still the people pouring in, and still that cry, "The crowd'sbehind!" and still the clamour for quicker, ampler means of transportto the North, no matter what it cost. The one consideration "to getthere, " and to get there "quickly, " brought most of the horde by theCanadian route; yet, as against the two ocean steamers--all-sufficientthe year before to meet the five river boats at St. Michael's--now, bythe All-American route alone, twenty ocean steamers and forty-sevenriver boats, double-deckers, some two hundred and twenty-five feetlong, and every one crowded to the guards with people coming to theKlondyke. 

Meanwhile, many of those already there were wondering why they came andhow they could get home. In the tons of "mail matter" for Dawson, stranded at Skaguay, must be those "instructions" from the Colonel'sbank, at home, to the Canadian Bank of Commerce, Dawson City. He agreedwith the Boy that if--very soon now--they had not disposed of theMinóok property, they would go to the mines. 

"What's the good?" rasped Mac. "Every foot staked for seventy miles. "

"For my part, " admitted the Boy, "I'm less grand than I was. I meant tomake some poor devil dig out my Minóok gold for me. It'll be the otherway about: I'll dig gold for any man on Bonanza that'll pay me wages. "

They sat slapping at the mosquitoes till a whistle screamed on theLower River. The Boy called to Nig, and went down to the town to hearthe news. By-and-by Mac came out with a pack, and said he'd be back ina day or two. After he had disappeared among the tents--a conqueringarmy that had forced its way far up the hill by now--the Colonel got upand went to the spring for a drink. He stood there a long time lookingout wistfully, not towards the common magnet across the Klondyke, butquite in the other direction towards the nearer gate of exit--towardshome. 

"What special brand of fool am I to be here?"

Down below, Nig, with hot tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth, now followed, now led, his master, coming briskly up the slope. 

"That was the Weare we heard whistlin', " said the Boy, breathless. "Andwho d'you think's aboard?"

"Who?"

"Nicholas a' Pymeut, pilot. An' he's got Princess Muckluck along. "

"No, " laughed the Colonel, following the Boy to the tent. "What's thePrincess come for?"

"How should I know?"

"Didn't she say?"

"Didn't stop to hear. "

"Reckon she was right glad to see you, " chaffed the Colonel. "Hey?Wasn't she?"

"I--don't think she noticed I was there. "

"What! you bolted?" No reply. "See here, what you doin'?"

"Packin' up. "

"Where you goin'?"

"Been thinkin' for some time I ain't wealthy enough to live in thismetropolis. There may be a place for a poor man, but Dawson isn't It. "

"Well, I didn't think you were that much of a coward--turnin' tail likethis just because a poor little Esquimaux--Besides, she may have gotover it. Even the higher races do. " And he went on poking his fun tillsuddenly the Boy said:

"You're in such high spirits, I suppose you must have heard Maudie's upfrom Minóok. 

"You're jokin'!"

"It ain't my idea of a joke. She's comin' up here soon's she's landedher stuff. "

"She's not comin' up here!"

"Why not? Anybody can come up on the Moosehide, and everybody's doin'it. I'm goin' to make way for some of 'em. "

"Did she see you?"

"Well, she's seen Potts, anyhow. "

"You're right about Dawson, " said the Colonel suddenly; "it's too richfor my blood. "

They pinned a piece of paper on the tent-flap to say they were "Goneprospecting: future movements uncertain. "

Each with a small pack, and sticking out above it the Klondyke shovelthat had come all the way from San Francisco, Nig behind withprovisions in his little saddle-bags, and tongue farther out than ever, they turned their backs on Dawson, crossed the lower corner of Lot 6, behind the Government Reserve, stared with fresh surprise at the youngmarket-garden flourishing there, down to the many-islanded Klondyke, across in the scow-ferry, over the Corduroy, that cheers and deceivesthe new-comer for that first mile of the Bonanza Trail, on through pooland morass to the thicket of white birches, where the Colonel thoughtit well to rest awhile. 

"Yes, he felt the heat, " he said, as he passed the time of day withother men going by with packs, pack-horses, or draught-dogs, cursing atthe trail and at the Government that taxed the miners so cruelly andthen did nothing for them, not even making a decent highway to theDominion's source of revenue. But out of the direct rays of the sun thetraveller found refreshment, and the mosquitoes were blown away by thekeen breeze that seemed to come from off some glacier. And the birdssang loud, and the wild-flowers starred the birch-grove, and thebriar-roses wove a tangle on either side the swampy trail. 

On again, dipping to a little valley--Bonanza Creek! They stood andlooked. 

"Well, here we are. "

"Yes, this is what we came for. "

And it was because of "this" that so vast a machinery of ships, engines, and complicated human lives had been set in motion. What wasit? A dip in the hills where a little stream was caught up intosluices. On either side of every line of boxes, heaps and windrows ofgravel. Above, high on log-cabin staging, windlasses. Stretching awayon either side, gentle slopes, mossed and flower starred. Here andthere upon this ancient moose pasture, tents and cabins set at random. In the bed of the creek, up and down in every direction, squads of mensweating in the sun--here, where for untold centuries herds ofleisurely and majestic moose had come to quench their thirst. In theolder cabins their horns still lorded it. Their bones were bleaching inthe fire-weed. 

On from claim to claim the new-comers to these rich pastures went, tillthey came to the junction of the El Dorado, where huddles the haphazardsettlement of the Grand Forks, only twelve miles from Dawson. And nowthey were at the heart of "the richest Placer Mining District the worldhas seen. " But they knew well enough that every inch was owned, andthat the best they could look for was work as unskilled labourers, dayshift or night, on the claims of luckier men. 

They had brought a letter from Ryan, of the North-West Mounted Police, to the Superintendent of No. 10, Above Discovery, a claim a little thisside of the Forks. Ryan had warned them to keep out of the way of thepart-owner, Scoville Austin, a surly person naturally, so exasperatedat the tax, and so enraged at the rumour of Government spiesmasquerading as workmen, checking his reports, that he was "afirst-rate man to avoid. " But Seymour, the Superintendent, was, in thewords of the soothing motto of the whole American people, "All right. "

They left their packs just inside the door of the log-cabin, indicatedas "Bunk House for the men on No. 6, Above"--a fearsome place, where, on shelf above shelf, among long unwashed bedclothes, the unwashedworkmen of a prosperous company lay in the stupor of sore fatigue andsemi-asphyxiation. Someone stirred as the door opened, and out of thefetid dusk of the unventilated, closely-shuttered cabin came a voice:

"Night shift on?"

"No. "

"Then, damn you! shut the door. "

As the never-resting sun "forced" the Dawson market-garden and thewild-roses of the trail, so here on the creek men must follow thestrenuous example. No pause in the growing or the toiling of thisNorthern world. The day-gang on No. 0 was hard at it down there wherelengthwise in the channel was propped a line of sluice-boxes, steadiedby regularly spaced poles laid from box to bank on gravel ridge. Looking down from above, the whole was like a huge fish-bone lyingalong the bed of the creek. A little group of men with picks, shovels, and wheelbarrows were reducing the "dump" of winter pay, piled beside awindlass, conveying it to the sluices. Other men in line, four or fivefeet below the level of the boxes, were "stripping, " picking, andshovelling the gravel off the bed-rock--no easy business, for even thissummer temperature thawed but a few inches a day, and below, the frostof ten thousand years cemented the rubble into iron. 

"Where is the Superintendent?"

"That's Seymour in the straw hat. "

It was felt that even the broken and dilapidated article mentioned wasa distinction and a luxury. 

Yes, it was too hot up here in the Klondyke. 

They made their way to the man in authority, a dark, quiet-manneredperson, with big, gentle eyes, not the sort of Superintendent they hadexpected to find representing such a man as the owner of No. 0. 

Having read Ryan's letter and slowly scanned the applicants: "What doyou know about it?" He nodded at the sluice. 

"All of nothing, " said the Boy. 

"Does it call for any particular knowing?" asked the Colonel. 

"Calls for muscle and plenty of keep-at-it. " His voice was soft, but asthe Colonel looked at him he realized why a hard fellow like ScovilleAustin had made this Southerner Superintendent. 

"Better just try us. "

"I can use one more man on the night shift, a dollar and a half anhour. "

"All right, " said the Boy. 

The Colonel looked at him. "Is this job yours or mine?"

The Superintendent had gone up towards the dam. 

"Whichever you say. "

The Boy did not like to suggest that the Colonel seemed little fit forthis kind of exercise. They had been in the Klondyke long enough toknow that to be in work was to be in luck. 

"I'll tell you, " the younger man said quickly, answering somethingunspoken, but plain in the Colonel's face; "I'll go up the gulch andsee what else there is. "

It crossed his mind that there might be something less arduous thanthis shovelling in the wet thaw or picking at frozen gravel in the hotsun. If so, the Colonel might be induced to exchange. It was obviousthat, like so many Southerners, he stood the sun very ill. While theywere agreeing upon a rendezvous the Superintendent came back. 

"Our bunk-house is yonder, " he said, pointing. A kind of sickness cameover the Kentuckian as he recalled the place. He turned to his pardner. 

"Wish we'd got a pack-mule and brought our tent out from Dawson. " Then, apologetically, to the Superintendent: "You see, sah, there are men whotake to bunk-houses just as there are women who want to live in hotels;and there are others who want a place to call home, even if it's atent. "

The Superintendent smiled. "That's the way we feel about it inAlabama. " He reflected an instant. "There's that big new tent up thereon the hill, next to the Buckeyes' cabin. Good tent; belongs to acouple o' rich Englishmen, third owners in No. 0. Gone to Atlin. Toldme to do what I liked with that tent. You might bunk there whilethey're away. "

"Now, that's mighty good of you, sah. Next whose cabin did you say?"

"Oh, I don't know their names. They have a lay on seventeen. Ohio men. They're called Buck One and Buck Two. Anybody'll show you to theBuckeyes';" and he turned away to shout "Gate!" for the head of waterwas too strong, and he strode off towards the lock. 

As the Boy tramped about looking for work he met a great many on thesame quest. It seemed as if the Colonel had secured the sole job on thecreek. Still, vacancies might occur any hour. 

In the big new tent the Colonel lay asleep on a little camp-bed, (mercifully left there by the rich Englishmen), "gettin' ready for thenight-shift. " As he stood looking down upon him, a sudden wave of pitycame over the Boy. He knew the Colonel didn't "really and truly have todo this kind of thing; he just didn't like givin' in. " But behind allthat there was a sense in the younger mind that here was a life unlikehis own, which dimly he foresaw was to find its legitimate expressionin battle and in striving. Here, in the person of the Colonel, nosoldier fore-ordained, but a serene and equable soul wrenched out ofits proper sphere by a chance hurt to a woman, forsooth! an imaginationso stirred that, if it slept at all, it dreamed and moaned in itssleep, as now; a conscience wounded and refusing to heal. Had he notsaid himself that he had come up here to forget? It was best to let himhave the job that was too heavy for him--yes, it was best, after all. 

And so they lived for a few days, the Boy chafing and wanting to moveon, the Colonel very earnest to have him stay. 

"Something sure to turn up, and, anyhow, letters--my instruction----"And he encouraged the acquaintance the Boy had struck up with theBuckeyes, hoping against hope that to go over and smoke a pipe, andexchange experiences with such mighty good fellows would lighten thetedium of the long day spent looking for a job. 

"I call it a very pleasant cabin, " the Colonel would say as he lit upand looked about. Anything dismaller it would be hard to find. Notclean and shipshape as the Boy kept the tent. But with double armyblankets nailed over the single window it was blessedly dark, ifstuffy, and in crying need of cleaning. Still, they were mighty goodfellows, and they had a right to be cheerful. Up there, on the rudeshelf above the stove, was a row of old tomato-cans brimful of Bonanzagold. There they stood, not even covered. Dim as the light was, youcould see the little top nuggets peering out at you over the raggedtin-rims, in a never locked shanty, never molested, never botheredabout. Nearly every cabin on the creek had similar chimney ornaments, but not everyone boasted an old coat, kept under the bunk, full of thebigger sort of nuggets. 

The Colonel was always ready with pretended admiration of suchbric-à-brac, but the truth was he cared very little about this gold hehad come so far to find. His own wages, paid in dust, were kept in ajam-pot the Boy had found "lyin' round. "

The growing store shone cheerfully through the glass, but its value inthe Colonel's eyes seemed to be simply as an argument to prove thatthey had enough, and "needn't worry. " When the Boy said there was nodoubt this was the district in all the world the most overdone, theColonel looked at him with sun-tired, reproachful eyes. 

"You want to dissolve the pardnership--I see. "

"I don't. "

But the Colonel, after any such interchange, would go off and smoke byhimself, not even caring for Buckeyes'. The work was plainly overtaxinghim. He slept badly, was growing moody and quick to take offence. Oneday when he had been distinctly uncivil he apologized for himself bysaying that, standing with feet always in the wet, head always in thescorching sun, he had taken a hell of a cold. Certain it was that, without sullenness, he would give in to long fits of silence; and hiswide, honest eyes were heavy again, as if the snow-blindness of thewinter had its analogue in a summer torment from the sun. And hissometimes unusual gentleness to his companion was sharply alternatedwith unusual choler, excited by a mere nothing. Enough if the Boy werenot in the tent when the Colonel came and went. Of course, the Boy didthe cooking. The Colonel ate almost nothing, but he made a great pointof his pardner's service in doing the cooking. He would starve, hesaid, if he had to cook for himself as well as swing a shovel; and theBoy, acting on pure instinct, pretended that he believed this was so. 

Then came the evening when the Boy was so late the Colonel got his ownbreakfast; and when the recreant did get home, it was to announce thata man over at the Buckeyes' had just offered him a job out on IndianRiver. The Colonel set down his tea-cup and stared. His face took onan odd, rigid look. But almost indifferently he said:

"So you're goin'?"

"Of course, you know I must. I started with an outfit and fifteenhundred dollars, now I haven't a cent. "

The Kentuckian raised his heavy eyes to the jam-jar. "Oh, helpyourself. "

The Boy laughed, and shook his head. 

"I wish you wouldn't go, " the other said very low. 

"You see, I've got to. Why, Nig and I owe you for a week's grubalready. "

Then the Colonel stood up and swore--swore till he was scarlet andshaking with excitement. 

"If the life up here has brought us to 'Scowl' Austin's point of view, we are poorly off. " And he spoke of the way men lived in his part ofKentucky, where the old fashion of keeping open house survived. Anddidn't he know it was the same thing in Florida? "Wouldn't you do asmuch for me?"

"Yes, only I can't--and--I'm restless. The summer's half gone. Up herethat means the whole year's half gone. "

The Colonel had stumbled back into his seat, and now across the dealtable he put out his hand. 

"Don't go, Boy. I don't know how I'd get on without----" He stopped, and his big hand was raised as if to brush away some cloud between himand his pardner. "If you go, you won't come back. "

"Oh, yes, I will. You'll see. "

"I know the kind, " the other went on, as if there had been nointerruption. "They never come back. I don't know as I ever cared quiteas much for my brother--little fella that died, you know. " Then, seeingthat his companion did not instantly iterate his determination to go, "That's right, " he said, getting up suddenly, and leaving his breakfastbarely touched. "We've been through such a lot together, let's see itout. "

Without waiting for an answer, he went off to his favourite seat underthe little birch-tree. But the incident had left him nervous. He wouldcome up from his work almost on the run, and if he failed to find hispardner in the tent there was the devil to pay. The Boy would laugh tohimself to think what a lot he seemed able to stand from the Colonel;and then he would grow grave, remembering what he had to make up for. Still, his sense of obligation did not extend to giving up thissplendid chance down on Indian River. On Wednesday, when the fellowover at the Buckeyes' was for going back, the Boy would go along. 

On Sunday morning he ran a crooked, rusty nail into his foot. Clumsilyextracted, it left an ugly wound. Walking became a torture, and thepain a banisher of sleep. It was during the next few days that he foundout how much the Colonel lay awake. Who could sleep in this blazingsun? Black tents were not invented then, so they lay awake and talkedof many things. 

The man from Indian River went back alone. The Boy would limp after theColonel down to the sluice, and sit on a dump heap with Nig. Few peoplenot there strictly on business were tolerated on No. 0, but Nig and hismaster had been on good terms with Seymour from the first. Now theystruck up acquaintance with several of the night-gang, especially withthe men who worked on either side of the Colonel. An Irish gentleman, who did the shovelling just below, said he had graduated from DublinUniversity. He certainly had been educated somewhere, and if thediscussion were theologic, would take out of his linen-coat pocket alittle testament in the Vulgate to verify a bit of Gospel. He couldeven pelt the man next but one in his native tongue, calling theSilesian "Uebermensch. " There existed some doubt whether this were thegentleman's real name, but none at all as to his talking philosophywith greater fervour than he bestowed on the puddling box. 

The others were men more accustomed to work with their hands, but, inspite of the conscious superiority of your experienced miner, a verygood feeling prevailed in the gang--a general friendliness thatpresently centred about the Colonel, for even in his present mood hewas far from disagreeable, except now and then, to the man he cared themost for. 

Seymour admitted that he had placed the Southerner where he thoughthe'd feel most at home. "Anyhow, the company is less mixed, " he said, "than it was all winter up at twenty-three, where they had aPresbyterian missionary down the shaft, a Salvation Army captainturnin' the windlass, a nigger thief dumpin' the becket, and adignitary of the Church of England doin' the cookin', with the help ofa Chinese chore-boy. They're all there now (except one) washin' outgold for the couple of San Francisco card-sharpers that own the claim. "

"Vich von is gone?" asked the Silesian, who heard the end of theconversation. 

"Oh, the Chinese chore-boy is the one who's bettered himself, " said theSuperintendent--"makin' more than all the others put together ever madein their lives; runnin' a laundry up at Dawson. "

The Boy, since this trouble with his foot, had fallen into the way ofturning night into day. The Colonel liked to have him down there at thesluice, and when he thought about it, the Boy marvelled at the hours hespent looking on while others worked. 

At first he said he came down only to make Scowl Austin mad. And it didmake him mad at first, but the odd thing was he got over it, and usedto stop and say something now and then. This attention on the part ofthe owner was distinctly perilous to the Boy's good standing with thegang. Not because Austin was the owner; there was the millionaireSwede, Ole Olsen--any man might talk to him. He was on the square, treated his workmen mighty fair, and when the other owners tried toreduce wages, and did, Ole wouldn't join them--went right along payingthe highest rate on the creek. 

Various stories were afloat about Austin. Oh, yes, Scowl Austin was ahard man--the only owner on the creek who wouldn't even pay the littlesubscription every poor miner contributed to keep the Dawson CatholicHospital going. 

The women, too, had grievances against Austin, not only "the usual lot"up at the Gold Belt, who sneered at his close fist, but some of theother sort--those few hard-working wives or "women on their own, " orthose who washed and cooked for this claim or that. They had storiesabout Austin that shed a lurid light. And so by degrees the gatheredexperience, good and ill, of "the greatest of all placer diggin's"flowed by the idler on the bank. 

"You seem to have a lot to do, " Seymour would now and then say with alaugh. 

"So I have. "

"What do you call it?"

"Takin' stock. "

"Of us?"

"Of things in general. "

"What did you mean by that?" demanded the Colonel suspiciously when theSuperintendent had passed up the line. 

The shovelling in was done for the time being. The water was to beregulated, and then the clean-up as soon as the owner came down. 

"Better not let Austin hear you say you're takin' stock. He'll run youout o' the creek. "

The Boy only smiled, and went on fillipping little stones at Nig. 

"What did you mean?" the Colonel persisted, with a look as suspiciousas Scowl Austin's own. 

"Oh, nothin'. I'm only thinkin' out things. "

"Your future, I suppose?" he said testily. 

"Mine and other men's. The Klondyke's a great place to get things clearin your head. "

"Don't find it so. " The Colonel put up his hand with that now familiaraction as if to clear away a cloud. "It's days since I had anythingclear in my head, except the lesson we learned on the trail. "

The Boy stopped throwing stones, and fixed his eyes on his friend, asthe Colonel went on:

"We had that hammered into us, didn't we?"

"What?"

"Oh, that--you know--that--I don't know quite how to put it so it'llsound as orthodox as it might be, bein' true; but it looks pretty cleareven to me"--again the big hand brushing at the unmoted sunshine--"thatthe only reason men got over bein' beasts was because they began to bebrothers. "

"Don't, " said the Boy. 

"Don't what?"

"I've always known I should have to tell you some time. I won't be ableto put it off if I stay ... And I hate tellin' you now. See here: Ib'lieve I'll get a pack-mule and go over to Indian River. "

The Colonel looked round angrily. Standing high against the sky, Seymour, with the gateman up at the lock, was moderating the stronghead of water. It began to flow sluggishly over the gravel-cloggedriffles, and Scowl Austin was coming down the hill. 

"I don't know what you're drivin' at, about somethin' to tell. I knowone thing, though, and I learned it up here in the North: men weremeant to stick to one another. "

"Don't, I say. "

"Here's Austin, " whispered the Colonel. 

The Silesian philosopher stood in his "gum-boots" in the puddling-boxas on a rostrum; but silent now, as ever, when Scowl Austin was insight. With the great sluice-fork, the philosopher took up, washed, andthrew out the few remaining big stones that they might not clog thenarrow boxes below. 

Seymour had so regulated the stream that, in place of the gush and foamof a few minutes before, there was now only a scant and gently fallingveil of water playing over the bright gravel caught in the riffle-linedbottoms of the boxes. 

As the Boy got up and reached for his stick, Austin stood there saying, to nobody in particular, that he'd just been over to No. 29, where theywere trying a new-fangled riffle. 

"Don't your riffles do the trick all right?" asked the Boy. 

"If you're in any doubt, come and see, " he said. 

They stood together, leaning over the sluice, looking in at one of thethings human industry has failed to disfigure, nearly as beautifulto-day as long ago on Pactolus' banks when Lydian shepherds, with greatstones, fastened fleeces in the river that they might catch and gatherfor King Croesus the golden sands of Tmolus. Improving, not in beauty, but economy, quite in the modern spirit, the Greeks themselvesdiscovered that they lost less gold if they led the stream throughfleece-lined water-troughs--and beyond this device of those earlyplacer-miners we have not progressed so far but that, in every long, narrow sluice-box in the world to-day, you may see a Lydianwater-trough with a riffle in the bottom for a golden fleece. 

The rich Klondyker and the poor one stood together looking in at thewater, still low, still slipping softly over polished pebbles, catchingat the sunlight, winking, dimpling, glorifying flint and jasper, agateand obsidian, dazzling the uncommercial eye to blind forgetfulness ofthe magic substance underneath. 

Austin gathered up, one by one, a handful of the shining stones, andtossed them out. Then, bending down, "See?"

There, under where the stones had been, neatly caught in the lattice ofthe riffle, lying thick and packed by the water action, a heavy ridgeof black and yellow--magnetic sand and gold. 

"Riffles out!" called Seymour, and the men, who had been extracting therusty nails that held them firm, lifted out from the bottom of each boxa wooden lattice, soused it gently in the water, and laid it on thebank. 

The Boy had turned away again, but stood an instant noticing how thesun caught at the countless particles of gold still clinging to thewood; for this was one of the old riffles, frayed by the action of muchwater and the fret of many stones. Soon it would have to be burned, andout of its ashes the careful Austin would gather up with mercury allthose million points of light. 

Meanwhile, Seymour had called to the gateman for more water, andhimself joining the gang, armed now with flat metal scoops, they allbegan to turn over and throw back against the stream the debris in thebottom of the boxes, giving the water another chance to wash out thelighter stuff and clean the gold from all impurity. Away went the lastof the sand, and away went the pebbles, dark or bright, away went muchof the heavy magnetic iron. Scowl Austin, at the end of the line, had acorn-whisk with which he swept the floor of the box, always upstream, gathering the contents in a heap, now on this side, now on that, letting the water play and sort and carry away, condensing, hasteningthe process that for ages had been concentrating gold in the Arcticplacers. 

"Say, look here!" shouted Austin to the Boy, already limping up thehill. 

When he had reached the sluice again he found that all Scowl Austinwanted, apparently, was to show him how, when he held the water backwith the whisk, it eddied softly at each side of the broad littlebroom, leaving exposed the swept-up pile. 

"See?"

"What's all that?"

"What do you think?"

"Looks like a heap o' sawdust. "

Austin actually laughed. 

"See if it feels like sawdust. Take it up like this, " he ordered. 

His visitor obeyed, lifting a double handful out of the water andholding it over the box, dripping, gleaming, the most beautiful thingthat comes out of the earth, save only life, and the assertion maystand, even if the distinction is without difference, if the crystal isborn, grows old, and dies as undeniably as the rose. 

The Boy held the double handful of well-washed gold up to the sunshine, feeling to the full the immemorial spell cast by the King of Metals. Nothing that men had ever made out of gold was so entirely beautiful asthis. 

Scowl Austin's grim gratification was openly heightened with the richman's sense of superiority, but his visitor seemed to have forgottenhim. 

"Colonel! here a minute. We thought it looked wonderful enough on theBig Chimney table--but Lord! to see it like this, out o' doors, mixedwith sunshine and water!"

Still he stood there fascinated, leaning heavily against thesluice-box, still with his dripping hands full, when, after a hurriedglance, the Colonel returned to his own box. None of the gang evertalked in the presence of the owner. 

"Guess that looks good to you. " Austin slightly stressed the pronoun. He had taken a reasonless liking for the young man, who from the firsthad smiled into his frowning face, and treated him as he treatedothers. Or perhaps Austin liked him because, although the Boy did agood deal of "gassin' with the gang, " he had never hung about atclean-ups. At all events, he should stay to-night, partly because whenthe blue devils were down on Scowl Austin nothing cheered him likeshowing his "luck" off to someone. And it was so seldom safe in thesedays. People talked. The authorities conceived unjust suspicions of aman's returns. And then, far back in his head, that vague need menfeel, when a good thing has lost its early zest, to see its dimmedvalue shine again in an envious eye. Here was a young fellow, who, before he went lame, had been all up and down the creek for dayslooking for a job--probably hadn't a penny--livin' off his friend, whohimself would starve but for the privilege Austin gave him of washingout Austin's gold. Let the young man stop and see the richest clean-upat the Forks. 

And so it was with the acrid pleasure he had promised himself that hesaid to the visitor, bending over the double handful of gold, "Guess itlooks good to you. "

"Yes, it looks good!" But he had lifted his eyes, and seemed to bestudying the man more than the metal. 

A couple of newcomers, going by, halted. 

"Christ!" said the younger, "look at that!"

The Boy remembered them; they had been to Seymour only a couple ofhours before asking for work. One was old for that country--nearlysixty--and looked, as one of the gang had said, "as if, instid o'findin' the pot o' gold, he had got the end of the rainbow slam in hisface--kind o' blinded. "

At sound of the strange voice Austin had wheeled about with a fiercelook, and heavily the strangers plodded by. The owner turned again tothe gold. "Yes, " he said curtly, "there's something about that thatlooks good to most men. "

"What I was thinkin', " replied the Boy slowly, "was that it was theonly clean gold I'd ever seen--but it isn't so clean as it was. "

"What do you mean?" Austin bent and looked sharply into the full hands. 

"I was thinkin' it was good to look at because it hadn't got into dirtypockets yet. " Austin stared at him an instant. "Never been passedround--never bought anybody. No one had ever envied it, or refused itto help someone out of a hole. That was why I thought it lookedgood--because it was clean gold ... A little while ago. " And he plungedhis hands in the water and washed the clinging particles off hisfingers. 

Austin had stared, and then turned his back with a blacker look thaneven "Scowl" had ever worn before. 

"Gosh! guess there's goin' to be trouble, " said one of the gang. 

CHAPTER XXI

PARDNERS

"He saw, and first of brotherhood had sight.... "

It was morning, and the night-shift might go to bed; but in the absentEnglishmen's tent there was little sleep and less talk that day. TheBoy, in an agony, with a foot on fire, heard the Colonel turning, tossing, growling incoherently about "the light. "

It seemed unreasonable, for a frame had been built round his bed, andon it thick gray army blankets were nailed--a rectangular tent. Had hecursed the heat now? But no: "light, " "God! the light, the light!" justas if he were lying as the Boy was, in the strong white glare of thetent. But hour after hour within the stifling fortress the giant tossedand muttered at the swords of sunshine that pierced his semi-duskthrough little spark-burnt hole or nail-tear, torturing sensitive eyes. 

Near three hours before he needed, the Colonel got up and splashed hisway through a toilet at the tin basin. The Boy made breakfast withoutwaiting for the usual hour. They had nearly finished when it occurredto the Colonel that neither had spoken since they went to bed. Heglanced across at the absorbed face of his friend. 

"You'll come down to the sluice to-night, won't you?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"No reason on earth, only I was afraid you were broodin' over what yousaid to Austin. "

"Austin? Oh, I'm not thinkin' about Austin. "

"What, then? What makes you so quiet?"

"Well, I'm thinkin' I'd be better satisfied to stay here a littlelonger if----"

"If what?"

"If there was truth between us two. "

"I thought there was. "

"No. What's the reason you want me to stay here?"

"Reason? Why"--he laughed in his old way--"I don't defend my taste, butI kind o' like to have you round. "

His companion's grave face showed no lightening. "Why do you want meround more than someone else?"

"Haven't got anyone else. "

"Oh, yes, you have! Every man on Bonanza's a friend o' yours, or wouldbe. "

"It isn't just that; we understand each other. "

"No, we don't. "

"What's wrong?"

No answer. The Boy looked through the door across Bonanza to the hills. 

"I thought we understood each other if two men ever did. Haven't wetravelled the Long Trail together and seen the ice go out?"

"That's just it, Colonel. We know such a lot more than men do whohaven't travelled the Trail, and some of the knowledge isn'toversweet. "

A shadow crossed the kind face opposite. 

"You're thinkin' about the times I pegged out--didn't do my share. "

"Lord, no!" The tears sprang up in the young eyes. "I'm thinkin' o' thetimes--I--" He laid his head down on the rude table, and sat so for aninstant with hidden face; then he straightened up. "Seems as if it'sonly lately there's been time to think it out. And before, as long as Icould work I could get on with myself.... Seemed as if I stood a chanceto ... A little to make up. "

"Make up?"

"But it's always just as it was that day on the Oklahoma, when thecaptain swore he wouldn't take on another pound. I was awfully happythinkin' if I made him bring you it might kind o' make up, but itdidn't. "

"Made a big difference to me, " the Colonel said, still not able to seethe drift, but patiently brushing now and then at the dazzling mist andwaiting for enlightenment. 

"It's always the same, " the other went on. "Whenever I've come upagainst something I'd hoped was goin' to make up, it's turned out to bea thing I'd have to do anyway, and there was no make up about it. Forall that, I shouldn't mind stayin' on awhile since you want me to----"

The Colonel interrupted him, "That's right!"

"Only if I do, you've got to know--what I'd never have guessed myself, but for the Trail. After I've told you, if you can bear to see meround----" He hesitated and suddenly stood up, his eyes still wet, buthis head so high an onlooker who did not understand English would havecalled the governing impulse pride, defiance even. "It seems I'm thekind of man, Colonel--the kind of man who could leave his pardner todie like a dog in the snow. "

"If any other fella said so, I'd knock him down. "

"That night before we got to Snow Camp, when you wouldn't--couldn't goany farther, I meant to go and leave you--take the sled, and take--Iguess I meant to take everything and leave you to starve. "

They looked into each other's faces, and years seemed to go by. TheColonel was the first to drop his eyes; but the other, pitilessly, likea judge arraigning a felon, his steady scrutiny never flinching: "Doyou want that kind of a man round, Colonel?"

The Kentuckian turned quickly as if to avoid the stab of the other'seye, and sat hunched together, elbows on knees, head in hands. 

"I knew you didn't. " The Boy answered his own question. He limped overto his side of the tent, picked up some clothes, his blanket and fewbelongings, and made a pack. Not a word, not a sound, but some birdstwittering outside in the sun and a locust making that frying sound inthe fire-weed. The pack was slung on the Boy's back, and he wasthrowing the diamond hitch to fasten it when the Colonel at last lookedround. 

"Lord, what you doin'?"

"Guess I'm goin' on. "

"Where?"

"I'll write you when I know; maybe I'll even send you what I owe you, but I don't feel like boastin' at the moment. Nig!"

"You can't walk. "

"Did you never happen to notice that one-legged fella pluggin' aboutDawson?"

He had gone down on his hands and knees to see if Nig was asleep underthe camp-bed. The Colonel got up, went to the door, and let down theflap. When he turned, the traveller and the dog were at his elbow. Hesquared his big frame at the entrance, looking down at the two, triedto speak, but the Boy broke in: "Don't let's get sentimental, Colonel;just stand aside. "

Never stirring, he found a voice to say, "I'm not askin' you tostay"--the other turned and whistled, for Nig had retired again to theseclusion of the gray blanket screen--"I only want to tell yousomething before you go. "

The Boy frowned a little, but rested his pack against the table in thatway in which the Klondyker learns to make a chair-back of his burden. 

"You seem to think you've been tellin' me news, " said the Colonel. "When you said that about goin' on, the night before we got to SnowCamp, I knew you simply meant you still intended to come out alive. Ihad thrown up my hands--at least, I thought I had. The only differencebetween us--I had given in and you hadn't. "

The other shook his head. "There was a lot more in it than that. "

"You meant to take the only means there were--to carry off the sledthat I couldn't pull any farther----" The Boy looked up quickly. Something stern and truth-compelling in the dark face forced theColonel to add: "And along with the sled you meant to carryoff--the--the things that meant life to us. "

"Just that----" The Boy knotted his brown fingers in Nig's hair as ifto keep tight hold of one friend in the wreck. 

"We couldn't divide, " the Colonel hurried on. "It was a case ofcrawlin' on together, and, maybe, come out alive, or part and one diesure. "

The Boy nodded, tightening his lips. 

"I knew well enough you'd fight for the off-chance. But"--the Colonelcame away from the door and stood in front of his companion--"so wouldI. I hadn't really given up the struggle. "

"You were past strugglin', and I would have left you sick----"

"You wouldn't have left me--if I'd had my gun. "

The Boy remembered that he had more than suspected that at the time, but the impression had by-and-by waxed dim. It was too utterly unlikethe Colonel--a thing dreamed. He had grown as ashamed of the dream asof the thing he knew was true. The egotism of memory absorbed itself inthe part he himself had played--that other, an evil fancy born of anevil time. And here was the Colonel saying it was true. The Boy droppedhis eyes. It had all happened in the night. There was something in thenaked truth too ghastly for the day. But the Colonel went on in a harshwhisper:

"I looked round for my gun; if I'd found it I'd have left you behind. "

And the Boy kept looking down at Nig, and the birds sang, and thelocust whirred, and the hot sun filled the tent as high-tide flushes asea-cave. 

"You've been a little hard on me, Boy, bringin' it up likethis--remindin' me--I wouldn't have gone on myself, and makin' meadmit----"

"No, no, Colonel. "

"Makin' me admit that before I would have let you go on I'd have shotyou!"

"Colonel!" He loosed his hold of Nig. 

"I rather reckon I owe you my life--and something else besides"--theColonel laid one hand on the thin shoulder where the pack-strappressed, and closed the other hand tight over his pardner's right--"andI hadn't meant even to thank you neither. "

"Don't, for the Lord's sake, don't!" said the younger, and neitherdared look at the other. 

A scratching on the canvas, the Northern knock at the door. 

"You fellers sound awake?"

A woman's voice. Under his breath, "Who the devil's that?" inquired theColonel, brushing his hand over his eyes. Before he got across the tentMaudie had pushed the flap aside and put in her head. 

"Hello!"

"Hell-o! How d'e do?"

He shook hands, and the younger man nodded, "Hello. "

"When did you come to town?" asked the Colonel mendaciously. 

"Why, nearly three weeks ago, on the Weare. Heard you had skipped outto Sulphur with MacCann. I had some business out that way, so that'swhere I been. "

"Have some breakfast, won't you--dinner, I mean?"

"I put that job through at the Road House. Got to rustle around now andget my tent up. Where's a good place?"

"Well, I--I hardly know. Goin' to stay some time?"

"Depends. "

The Boy slipped off his pack. 

"They've got rooms at the Gold Belt, " he said. 

"You mean that Dance Hall up at the Forks?"

"Oh, it ain't so far. I remember you can walk. "

"I can do one or two other things. Take care you don't hurt yourselfworryin' about me. "

"Hurt myself?"

"Yes. Bein' so hospittable. The way you're pressin' me to settle rightdown here, near's possible--why, it's real touchin'. "

He laughed, and went to the entrance to tic back the door-flap, whichwas whipping and snapping in the breeze. Heaven be praised! the nightwas cooler. Nig had been perplexed when he saw the pack pushed underthe table. He followed his master to the door, and stood looking at theflap-tying, ears very pointed, critical eye cocked, asking as plain ascould be, "You wake me up and drag me out here into the heat andmosquitoes just to watch you doin' that? Well, I've my opinion of you. "

"Colonel gone down?" inquired the Silesian, passing by. 

"Not yet. "

"Anything I can do?" the gentleman inside was saying with a sound ofeffort in his voice. The lady was not even at the pains to notice theperfunctory civility. 

"Well, Colonel, now you're here, what do you think o' the Klondyke?"

"Think? Well, there's no doubt they've taken a lot o' gold out o'here. "

"Reg'lar old Has Been, hey?"

"Oh, I don't say it hasn't got a future. "

"What! Don't you know the boom's busted?"

"Well, no. "

"Has. Tax begun it. Too many cheechalkos are finishing it. Klondyke?"She laughed. "The Klondyke's goin' to hell down-grade in a hand-car. "

Scowl Austin was up, ready, as usual, to relieve Seymour of half thesuperintending, but never letting him off duty till he had seen the newshift at work. As the Boy limped by with the German, Austin turned hisscowl significantly towards the Colonel's tent. 

"Good-mornin'--good-night, I mean, " laughed the lame man, just as ifhis tongue had not run away with him the last time the two had met. Itwas not often that anyone spoke so pleasantly to the owner of No. 0. Perhaps the circumstance weighed with him; at all events, he stoppedshort. When the German had gone on, "Foot's better, " Austin asserted. 

"Perhaps it is a little, " though the lame man had no reason to thinkso. 

"Lucky you heal quick. Most people don't up here--livin' on the stalestuff we get in this----country. Seymour said anything to you about ajob?"

"No. "

"Well, since you're on time, you better come on the night shift, instead o' that lazy friend o' yours. "

"Oh, he ain't lazy--been up hours. An old acquaintance dropped in;he'll be down in a minute. "

"'Tisn't only his bein' late. You better come on the shift. "

"Don't think I could do that. What's the matter?"

"Don't say there's anything very much the matter yet. But he's sick, ain't he?"

"Sick? No, except as we all are--sick o' the eternal glare. "

The Colonel was coming slowly down the hill. Of course, a man doesn'tlook his best if he hasn't slept. The Boy limped a little way back tomeet him. 

"Anything the matter with you, Colonel?"

"Well, my Bonanza headache ain't improved. "

"I suppose you wouldn' like me to take over the job for two or threedays?"

"You? Crippled! Look here--" The Colonel flushed suddenly. "Austin beensayin' anything?"

"Oh, I was just thinkin' about the sun. "

"Well, when I want to go in out of the sun, I'll say so. " And, walkingmore quickly than he had done for long, he left his companion, marcheddown to the creek, and took his place near the puddling-box. 

By the time the Boy got to the little patch of shade, offered by thestaging, Austin had turned his back on the gang, and was going to speakto the gateman at the locks. He had evidently left the Colonel verymuch enraged at some curt comment. 

"He meant it for us all, " the Dublin gentleman was saying soothingly. By-and-by, as they worked undisturbed, serenity returned. Oh, theColonel was all right--even more chipper than usual. What agood-looking fella he was, with that clear skin and splendid colour!

A couple of hours later the Colonel set his long shovel against thenearest of the poles steadying the sluice, and went over to the stagingfor a drink. He lifted the can of weak tea to his lips and took a longdraught, handed the can back to the Boy, and leant against the staging. They talked a minute or two in undertones. 

A curt voice behind said: "Looks like you've got a deal to attend toto-day, beside your work. "

They looked round, and there was Austin. As the Colonel saw who it washad spoken, the clear colour in the tan deepened; he threw back hisshoulders, hesitated, and then, without a word, went and took up hisshovel. 

Austin walked on. The Boy kept looking at his friend. What was thematter with the Colonel? It was not only that his eyes were queer--mostof the men complained of their eyes, unless they slept in cabins. Butwhether through sun-blindness or shaken by anger, the Colonel washandling his shovel uncertainly, fumbling at the gravel, content withhalf a shovelful, and sometimes gauging the distance to the box sobadly that some of the pay fell down again in the creek. As Austin cameback on the other side of the line, he stopped opposite to where theColonel worked, and suddenly called: "Seymour!"

Like so many on Bonanza, the Superintendent could not always sleep whenthe time came. He was walking about "showing things" to a stranger, "anewspaper woman, " it was whispered--at all events, a lady who, armedwith letters from the highest British officials, had come to "write upthe Klondyke. "

Seymour had left her at his employer's call. The lady, thin, neat, alert, with crisply curling iron-gray hair, and pleasant butunmistakably dignified expression, stood waiting for him a moment onthe heap of tailings, then innocently followed her guide. 

Although Austin lowered his voice, she drew nearer, prepared to take anintelligent interest in the "new riffles up on Skookum. "

When Austin had first called Seymour, the Colonel started, looked up, and watched the little scene with suspicion and growing anger. SeeingSeymour's eyes turn his way, the Kentuckian stopped shovelling, and, ona sudden impulse, called out:

"See here, Austin: if you've any complaints to make, sah, you'd bettermake them to my face, sah. "

The conversation about riffles thus further interrupted, a littlesilence fell. The Superintendent stood in evident fear of his employer, but he hastened to speak conciliatory words. 

"No complaint at all--one of the best hands. "

"May be so when he ain't sick, " said Austin contemptuously. 

"Sick!" the Boy called out. "Why, you're dreamin'. He's our strongman--able to knock spots out of anyone on the creek, ain't he?"appealing to the gang. 

"I shall be able to spare him from my part of the creek afterto-night. "

"Do I understand you are dismissing me?"

"Oh, go to hell!"

The Colonel dropped his shovel and clenched his hands. 

"Get the woman out o' the way, " said the owner; "there's goin' to betrouble with this fire-eating Southerner. "

The woman turned quickly. The Colonel, diving under the sluice-box fora plunge at Austin, came up face to face with her. 

"The lady, " said the Colonel, catching his breath, shaking with rage, but pulling off his hat--"the lady is quite safe, but I'm not so sureabout you. " He swerved as if to get by. 

"Safe? I should think so!" she said steadily, comprehending all atonce, and not unwilling to create a diversion. 

"This is no place for a woman, not if she's got twenty letters from theGold Commissioner. "

Misunderstanding Austin's jibe at the official, the lady stood herground, smiling into the face of the excited Kentuckian. 

"Several people have asked me if I was not afraid to be alone here, andI've said no. It's quite true. I've travelled so much that I came toknow years ago, it's not among men like you a woman has anything tofear. "

It was funny and pathetic to see the infuriate Colonel clutching at hisgrand manner, bowing one instant to the lady, shooting death anddamnation the next out of heavy eyes at Austin. But the wiry littlewoman had the floor, and meant, for peace sake, to keep it a fewmoments. 

"At home, in the streets of London, I have been rudely spoken to; Ihave been greatly annoyed in Paris; in New York I have been subject tohumorous impertinence; but in the great North-West every man has seemedto be my friend. In fact, wherever our English tongue is spoken, " shewound up calmly, putting the great Austin in his place, "a woman may goalone. "

Austin seemed absorbed in filling his pipe. The lady tripped on to thenext claim with a sedate "Good-night" to the men on No. 0. She thoughtthe momentary trouble past, and never turned to see how the Kentuckian, waiting till she should be out of earshot, came round in front ofAustin with a low question. 

The gang watched the Boy dodge under the sluice and hobble hurriedlyover the chaos of stones towards the owner. Before he reached him hecalled breathless, but trying to laugh:

"You think the Colonel's played out, but, take my word for it, he ain'ta man to fool with. "

The gang knew from Austin's sneering look as he turned to strike amatch on a boulder--they knew as well as if they'd been within a yardof him that Scowl had said something "pretty mean. " They saw theColonel make a plunge, and they saw him reel and fall among the stones. 

The owner stood there smoking while the night gang knocked off workunder his nose and helped the Boy to get the Colonel on his feet. Itwas no use. Either he had struck his head or he was dazed--unable, atall events, to stand. They lifted him up and started for the big tent. 

Three Indians accosted the cripple leading the procession. He started, and raised his eyes. "Nicholas! Muckluck!" They shook hands, and allwent on together, the Boy saying the Colonel had a little sunstroke. 

 * * * * *

The next day Scowl Austin was found lying face down among thecotton-woods above the benches on Skookum, a bullet-wound in his back. He had fainted from loss of blood, when he was picked up by the twoVermonters, the men who had twice gone by No. 0 the night before thequarrel, and who had enraged Austin by stopping an instant during theclean-up to look at his gold. They carried him back to Bonanza. 

The Superintendent and several of the day gang got the wounded man intobed. He revived sufficiently to say he had not seen the man that shothim, but he guessed he knew him all the same. Then he turned on hisside, swore feebly at the lawlessness of the South, and gave up theghost. 

Not a man on the creek but understood who Scowl Austin meant. 

"Them hot-headed Kentuckians, y' know, they'd dowse a feller's glim forless 'n that. "

"Little doubt the Colonel done it all right. Why, his own pardner saysto Austin's face, says he, 'The Colonel's a bad man to fool with, ' andjust then the big chap plunged at Austin like a mad bull. "

But they were sorry to a man, and said among themselves that they'd seehe was defended proper even if he hadn't nothin' but a little dust in ajam-pot. 

The Grand Forks constable had put a watch on the big tent, despatched aman to inform the Dawson Chief of Police, and set himself to learn thedetails of the quarrel. Meanwhile the utter absence of life in theguarded tent roused suspicion. It was recalled now that since theIndians had left a little while after the Colonel was carried home, sixteen hours ago, no one had seen either of the Southerners. Theconstable, taking alarm at this, left the crowd at Scowl Austin's, andwent hurriedly across the meadow to the new centre of interest. Just ashe reached the tent the flap was turned back, and Maudie put her headout. 

"Hah!" said the constable, with some relief, "they both in there?"

"The Colonel is. "

Now, it was the Colonel he had wanted till he heard he was there. Asthe woman came out he looked in to make certain. Yes, there he was, calmly sleeping, with the gray blanket of the screen thrown up for air. It didn't look much like----

"Where's the other feller?"

"Gone to Dawson. "

"With that lame leg?"

"Went on horseback. "

It had as grand a sound as it would have in the States to say a man haddeparted in a glass coach drawn by six cream-coloured horses. But hehad been "in a hell of a hurry, " evidently. Men were exchangingglances. 

"Funny nobody saw him. "

"When'd he light out?"

"About five this morning. "

Oh, that explained it. The people who were up at five were abed now. And the group round the tent whispered that Austin had done the unheardof--had gone off and left the night gang at three o'clock in themorning. They had said so as the day shift turned out. 

"But how'd the young feller get such a thing as a horse?"

"Hired it off a stranger out from Dawson yesterday, " Maudie answeredshortly. 

"Oh, that Frenchman--Count--a--Whirligig?"

But Maudie was tired of giving information and getting none. The answercame from one in the group. 

"Yes, that French feller came in with a couple o' fusst-class horses. He's camped away over there beyond Muskeeter. " He pointed down Bonanza. 

"P'raps you won't mind just mentionin', " said Maudie with growingirritation, "why you're makin' yourself so busy about my friends?"(Only strong resentment could have induced the plural. )

When she heard what had happened and what was suspected she uttered acontemptuous "Tschah!" and made for the tent. The constable followed. She wheeled fiercely round. 

"The man in there hasn't been out o' this tent since he was carried upfrom the creek last night. I can swear to it. "

"Can you swear the other was here all the time?"

No answer. 

"Did he say what he went to Dawson for?"

"The doctor. "

One or two laughed. "Who's sick enough to send for a Dawson doctor?"

"So you think he's gone for a----"

"I know he is. "

"And do you know what it costs to have a doctor come all the way outhere?"

"Yes, beasts! won't budge till you've handed over five hundred dollars. Skunks!"

"Did your friend mention how he meant to raise the dust?"

"He's got it, " she said curtly. 

"Why, he was livin' off his pardner. Hadn't a red cent. "

"She's shieldin' him, " the men about the door agreed. 

"Lord! he done it well--got away with five hundred and a horse!"

"He had words with Austin, himself, the night o' the clean-up. SassedScowl Austin! Right quiet, but, oh my! Told him to his face his goldwas dirty, and washed it off his hands with a look----Gawd! you couldsee Austin was mad clear through, from his shirt-buttons to his spine. You bet Scowl said something back that got the young feller's monkeyup. "

They all agreed that the only wonder was that Austin had lived aslong--"On the other side o' the line--Gee!"

 * * * * *

That evening the Boy, riding hard, came into camp with a doctor, followed discreetly in the rear by an N. W. M. P. , really mounted thistime. It had occurred to the Boy that people looked at him hard, andwhen he saw the groups gathered about the tent his heart contractedsharply. Had the Colonel died? He flung himself off the horse, wincedas his foot cried out, told Joey Bludsoe to look after both beasts aminute, and led the Dawson doctor towards the tent. 

The constable followed. 

Maudie, at the door, looked at her old enemy queerly, and just as, without greeting, he pushed by, "S'pose you've heard Scowl Austin'sdead?" she said in a low voice. 

"No! Dead, eh? Well, there's one rattlesnake less in the woods. "

The constable stopped him with a touch on the shoulder: "We have awarrant for you. "

The Colonel lifted his head and stared about, in a dazed way, as theBoy stopped short and stammered, "Warr--what for?"

"For the murder of Scoville----"

"Look here, " he whispered: "I--I don't know what you mean, but I'll goalong with you, of course, only don't talk before this man. He'ssick----" He beckoned the doctor. "This is the man I brought you tosee. " Then he turned his back on the wide, horrified eyes of hisfriend, saying, "Back in a minute, Kentucky. " Outside: "Give me asecond, boys, will you?" he said to the N. W. M. P. 's, "just till Ihear what that doctor fella says about my pardner. "

He stood there with the Buckeyes, the police, and the various day gangsthat were too excited to go to bed. And he asked them where Austin wasfound, and other details of the murder, wearily conscious that thefriendliest there felt sure that the man who questioned could best fillin the gaps in the story. When the doctor came out, Maudie at his heelsfiring off quick questions, the Boy hobbled forward. 

"Well?"

"Temperature a hundred and four, " said the Dawson doctor. 

"Oh, is--is that much or little?"

"Well, it's more than most of us go in for. "

"Can you tell what's the matter with him?"

"Oh, typhoid, of course. "

The Boy pulled his hat over his eyes. 

"Guess you won't mind my stayin' now?" said Maudie at his elbow, speaking low. 

He looked up. "You goin' to take care of him? Good care?" he askedharshly. 

But Maudie seemed not to mind. The tears went down her cheeks, as, withnever a word, she nodded, and turned towards the tent. 

"Say, " he hobbled after her, "that doctor's all right--only wantedfifty. " He laid four hundred-dollar bills in her hand. She seemed aboutto speak, when he interrupted hoarsely, "And look here: pull theColonel through, Maudie--pull him through!"

"I'll do my darnedest. "

He held out his hand. He had never given it to her before, and heforgot that few people would care now to take it. But she gave him herswith no grudging. Then, on a sudden, impulse, "You ain't takin' him toDawson to-night?" she said to the constable. 

He nodded. 

"Why, he's done the trip twice already. "

"I can do it again well enough. "

"Then you got to wait a minute. " She spoke to the constable as if shehad been Captain Constantine himself. "Better just go in and see theColonel, " she said to the Boy. "He's been askin' for you. "

"N-no, Maudie; I can go to Dawson all right, but I don't feel up togoin' in there again. "

"You'll be sorry if you don't. " And then he knew what a temperature at ahundred and four foreboded. 

He went back into the tent, dreading to face the Colonel more than hehad ever dreaded anything in his life. 

But the sick man lay, looking out drowsily, peacefully, throughhalf-shut eyes, not greatly concerned, one would say, about anything. The Boy went over and stood under the gray blanket canopy, looking downwith a choking sensation that delayed his question: "How you feelin'now, Kentucky?"

"All right. "

"Why, that's good news. Then you--you won't mind my goin' off to--to doa little prospectin'?"

The sick man frowned: "You stay right where you are. There's plenty inthat jampot. "

"Yes, yes! jampot's fillin' up fine. "

"Besides, " the low voice wavered on, "didn't we agree we'd learned thelesson o' the North?"

"The lesson o' the North?" repeated the other with filling eyes. 

"Yes, sah. A man alone's a man lost. We got to stick together, Boy. "The eyelids fell heavily. 

"Yes, yes, Colonel. " He pressed the big hand. His mouth made themotion, not the sound, "Good-bye, pardner. "

CHAPTER XXII

THE GOING HOME

 "Despair lies down and grovels, grapples not With evil, casts the burden of its lot. This Age climbs earth. --To challenge heaven. --Not less The lower deeps. It laughs at Happiness. " --George Meredith

Everybody on Bonanza knew that the Colonel had left off struggling toget out of his bed to go to work, had left off calling for his pardner. Quite in his right senses again, he could take in Maudie's explanationthat the Boy was gone to Dawson, probably to get something for theColonel to eat. For the Doctor was a crank and wouldn't let the sickman have his beans and bacon, forbade him even such a delicacy as freshpork, though the Buckeyes nobly offered to slaughter one of theirnewly-acquired pigs, the first that ever rooted in Bonanza refuse, andmore a terror to the passing Indian than any bear or wolf. 

"But the Boy's a long time, " the Colonel would say wistfully. 

Before this quieter phase set in, Maudie had sent into Dawson forPotts, O'Flynn and Mac, that they might distract the Colonel's mindfrom the pardner she knew could not return. But O'Flynn, having marriedthe girl at the Moosehorn Café, had excuse of ancient validity for notcoming; Potts was busy breaking the faro bank, and Mac was waiting tillan overdue Lower River steamer should arrive. 

Nicholas of Pymeut had gone back as pilot of the Weare, but PrincessMuckluck was still about, now with Skookum Bill, son of the localchief, now alone, trudging up and down Bonanza like one looking forsomething lost. The Colonel heard her voice outside the tent and hadher in. 

"You goin' to marry Skookum Bill, as they say?"

Muckluck only laughed, but the Indian hung about waiting the Princess'spleasure. 

"When your pardner come back?" she would indiscreetly ask the Colonel. "Why he goes to Dawson?" And every few hours she would return: "Why hestay so long?"

At last Maudie took her outside and told her. 

Muckluck gaped, sat down a minute, and rocked her body back and forthwith hidden face, got up and called sharply: "Skookum!"

They took the trail for town. Potts said, when he passed them, theywere going as if the devil were at their heels--wouldn't even stop tosay how the Colonel was. So Potts had come to see for himself--and tobring the Colonel some letters just arrived. 

Mac was close behind ... But the Boy? No-no. They wouldn't let anybodysee him; and Potts shook his head. 

"Well, you can come in, " said Maudie, "if you keep your head shut aboutthe Boy. "

The Colonel was lying flat, with that unfaltering ceiling-gaze of thesick. Now his vision dropped to the level of faces at the door. "Hello!" But as they advanced he looked behind them anxiously. OnlyMac--no, Kaviak at his heels! and the sick man's disappointmentlightened to a smile. He would have held out a hand, but Maudie stoppedhim. She took the little fellow's fingers and laid them on theColonel's. 

"Now sit down and be quiet, " she said nervously. 

Potts and Mac obeyed, but Kaviak had fastened his fine little hand onthe weak one, and anchored so, stared about taking his bearings. 

"How did you get to the Klondyke, Kaviak?" said the Colonel in a thin, breathy voice. 

"Came up with Sister Winifred, " Farva answered for him. "She was sentfor to help with the epidemic. Dyin' like flies in Dawson--h'm--ahem!"(Apologetic glance at Maudie. ) "Sister Winifred promised to keep Kaviakwith her. Woman of her word. "

"Well, what you think o' Dawson?" the low voice asked. 

Kaviak understood the look at least, and smiled back, grew suddenlygrave, intent, looked sharply round, loosed his hold of the Colonel, bent down, and retired behind the bed. That was where Nig was. Theirforegathering added nothing to the tranquility of the occasion, andboth were driven forth by Maudie. 

Potts read the Colonel his letters, and helped him to sign a couple ofcheques. The "Louisville instructions" had come through at last. 

After that the Colonel slept, and when he woke it was only to wanderaway into that world where Maudie was lost utterly, and where theColonel was at home. There was chastening in such hours for Maudie ofMinóok. "Now he's found the Other One, " she would say to herself--"theOne he was looking for. "

That same evening, as they sat in the tent in an interval of relieffrom the Colonel's muttering monotone, they heard Nig making some sortof unusual manifestation outside; heard the grunting of those pioneerpigs; heard sounds of a whispered "Sh! Kaviak. Shut up, Nig!" Then alow, tuneless crooning:

 "Wen yo' see a pig a-goin' along Widder straw in de sider 'is mouf, It'll be er tuhble wintuh, En yo' bettah move down Souf. "

"Why, the Boy's back!" said the Colonel suddenly in a clear, collectedvoice. 

Maudie had jumped up, but the Boy put his head in the tent, smiling, and calling out:

"They told me he was getting on all right, but I just thought maybe hewas asleep. " He came in and bent over his pardner. "Hello, everybody!Why, you got it so fine and dark in here, I can hardly see how wellyou're lookin', Colonel!" And he dropped into the nurse's place by thebedside. 

"Maudie's lined the tent with black drill, " said the Colonel. "Youbrought home anything to eat?"

"Well, no----" (Maudie telegraphed); "found it all I could do to bringmyself back. "

"Oh, well, that's the main thing, " said the Colonel, battling withdisappointment. Pricked by some quickened memory of the Boy's lasthome-coming: "I've had pretty queer dreams about you: been givin'Maudie the meanest kind of a time. "

"Don't go gassin', Colonel, " admonished the nurse. 

"It's pretty tough, I can tell you, " he said irritably, "to be as weakas a day-old baby, and to have to let other people----"

"Mustn't talk!" ordered Mac. The Colonel raised his head with suddenanger. It did not mend matters that Maudie was there to hold him downbefore a lot of men. 

"You go to Halifax, " said the Boy to Mac, blustering a trifle. "TheColonel may stand a little orderin' about from Maudie--don't blame himm'self. But Kentucky ain't going to be bossed by any of us. "

The Colonel lay quite still again, and when he spoke it was quietlyenough. 

"Reckon I'm in the kind of a fix when a man's got to take orders. "

"Foolishness! Don't let him jolly you, boys. The Colonel's alwayssayin' he ain't a soldier, but I reckon you better look out how yourile Kentucky!"

The sick man ignored the trifling. "The worst of it is bein' souseless. "

"Useless! You just wait till you see what a lot o' use we mean to makeof you. No crawlin' out of it like that. "

"It's quite true, " said Mac harshly; "we all kind of look to youstill. "

"Course we do!" The Boy turned to the others. "The O'Flynns comin' allthe way out from Dawson to-morrow to get Kentucky's opinion on a bigscheme o' theirs. Did you ever hear what that long-headed Lincoln saidwhen the Civil War broke out? 'I would like to have God on my side, butI must have Kentucky. '"

"I've been so out o' my head, I thought you were arrested. "

"No 'out of your head' about it--was arrested. They thought I'd clearedScowl Austin off the earth. "

"Do they know who did?" Potts and Maudie asked in a breath. 

"That Klondyke Indian that's sweet on Princess Muckluck. "

"What had Austin done to him?"

"Nothin'. Reckon Skookum Bill was about the only man on Bonanza who hadno objection to the owner of o. Said so in Court. "

"What did he kill him for?"

"Well, " said the Boy, "it's just one o' those topsy-turvy things thathappen up here. You saw that Indian that came in with Nicholas? Someyears ago he killed a drunken white man who was after him with a knife. There was no means of tryin' the Indian where the thing happened, so hewas taken outside. 

"The Court found he'd done the killin' in self-defence, and sent himback. Well, sir, that native had the time of his life bein' tried formurder. He'd travelled on a railroad, seen a white man's city, livedlike a lord, and came home to be the most famous man of his tribe. Gota taste for travel, too. Comes to the Klondyke, and his fame firesSkookum Bill. All you got to do is to kill one o' these white men, andthey take you and show you all the wonders o' the earth. So he puts abullet into Austin. "

"Why didn't he own up, then, and get his reward?"

"Muckluck knew better--made him hold his tongue about it. "

"And then made him own up when she saw----"

The boy nodded. 

"What's goin' to happen?"

"Oh, he'll swing to-morrow instead o' me. By the way, Colonel, a fellahunted me up this mornin' who'd been to Minóok. Looked good to him. I've sold out Idaho Bar. "

"'Nough to buy back your Orange Grove?"

He shook his head. "'Nough to pay my debts and start over again. "

When the Dawson doctor left that night Maudie, as usual, followed himout. They waited a long time for her to come back. 

"Perhaps she's gone to her own tent;" and the Boy went to see. Hefound her where the Colonel used to go to smoke, sitting, staring outto nowhere. 

As the boy looked closer he saw she had been crying, for even in themidst of honest service Maudie, like many a fine lady before her, couldnot forego the use of cosmetic. Her cheeks were streaked and stained. 

"Five dollars a box here, too, " she said mechanically, as she wipedsome of the rouge off with a handkerchief. Her hand shook. 

"What's the matter?"

"It's all up, " she answered. 

"Not with him?" He motioned towards the tent. 

She nodded. 

"Doctor says so?"

"----and I knew it before, only I wouldn't believe it. "

She had spoken with little agitation, but now she flung her arms outwith a sudden anguish that oddly took the air of tossing into spaceBonanza and its treasure. It was the motion of one who renounces thething that means the most--a final fling in the face of the gods. TheBoy stood quite still, submitting his heart to that first quick rendingand tearing asunder which is only the initial agony of parting. 

"How soon?" he said, without raising his eyes. 

"Oh, he holds on--it may be a day or two. "

The Boy walked slowly away towards the ridge of the low hill. Maudieturned and watched him. On the top of the divide he stopped, lookingover. Whatever it was he saw off there, he could not meet it yet. Heflung himself down with his face in the fire-weed, and lay there allnight long. 

Kaviak was sent after him in the morning, but only to say, "Breakfast, Maudie's tent. "

The Boy saw that Mac and Potts knew. For the first time the Big Chimneymen felt a barrier between them and that one who had been the commonbond, keeping the incongruous allied and friendly. Only Nig ran in andout, unchilled by the imminence of the Colonel's withdrawal from hiskind. 

Towards noon the O'Flynns came up the creek, and were stopped near thetent by the others. They all stood talking low till a noise ofscuffling broke the silence within. They drew nearer, and heard theColonel telling Maudie not to turn out Nig and Kaviak. 

"I like seein' my friends. Where's the Boy?"

So they went in. 

Did he know? He must know, or he would have asked O'Flynn what thedevil made him look like that! All he said was: "Hello! How do you do, madam?" and he made a weak motion of one hand towards Mrs. O'Flynn todo duty for that splendid bow of his. Then, as no one spoke, "You'retoo late, O'Flynn. "

"Too late?"

"Had a job in your line.... " Then suddenly: "Maudie's worth the wholelot of you. "

They knew it was his way of saying "She's told me. " They all sat andlooked at the floor. Nothing happened for a long time. At last: "Well, you all know what my next move is; what's yours?"

There was another silence, but not nearly so long. 

"What prospects, pardners?" he repeated. 

The Boy looked at Maudie. She made a little gesture of "I've done allthe fightin' I'm good for. " The Colonel's eyes, clear again andtranquil, travelled from face to face. 

O'Flynn cleared his throat, but it was Mac who spoke. 

"Yes--a--we would like to hold a last--hold a counsel o' war. We'vealways kind o' followed your notions--at least"--veracity pared downthe compliment--"at least, you can't say but what we've always listenedto you. "

"Yes, you might just--a--start us as well as you can, " says Potts. 

The Colonel smiled a little. Each man still "starting"--foreverstarting for somewhere or something, until he should come to this placewhere the Colonel was. Even he, why, he was "starting" too. For himthis was no end other than a chapter's ending. But these men he hadlived and suffered with, they all wanted to talk the next moveover--not his, theirs--all except the Boy, it seemed. 

Mac was in the act of changing his place to be nearer the Colonel, whenPotts adroitly forestalled him. The others drew off a little and madedesultory talk, while Potts in an undertone told how he'd had a run ofbad luck. No doubt it would turn, but if ever he got enough again topay his passage home, he'd put it in the bank and never risk it. 

"I swear I wouldn't! I've got to go out in the fall--goin' to getmyself married Christmas; and, if she's willing, we'll come up here onthe first boat in the spring--with backing this time. "

He showed a picture. The Colonel studied it. 

"I believe she'll come, " he said. 

And Potts was so far from clairvoyance that he laughed, awkwardlyflattered; then anxiously: "Wish I was sure o' my passage money. "

When Potts, before he meant to, had yielded place to O'Flynn, theColonel was sworn to secrecy, and listened to excited whispers of goldin the sand off yonder on the coast of the Behring Sea. The world ingeneral wouldn't know the authenticity of the new strike till nextseason. He and Mrs. O'Flynn would take the first boat sailing out ofSan Francisco in the spring. 

"Oh, you're going outside too?"

"In the fahll--yes, yes. Ye see, I ain't like the rest. I've got Mrs. O'Flynn to consider. Dawson's great, but it ain't the place to start afamully. "

"Where you goin', Mac?" said the Colonel to the irate one, who wasmaking for the door. "I want a little talk with you. "

Mac turned back, and consented to express his opinion of the moneythere was to be made out of tailings by means of a new hydraulicprocess. He was going to lend Kaviak to Sister Winifred again on theold terms. She'd take him along when she returned to Holy Cross, andMac would go outside, raise a little capital, return, and make afortune. For the moment he was broke--hadn't even passage money. Didthe Colonel think he could----

The Colonel seemed absorbed in that eternal interrogation of thetent-top. 

"Mine, you know"--Mac drew nearer still, and went on in the loweredvoice--"mine's a special case. A man's bound to do all he can for hisboys. "

"I didn't know you had boys. "

Mac jerked "Yes" with his square head. "Bobbie's goin' on six now. "

"The others older?"

"Others?" Mac stared an instant. "Oh, there's only one more. " Hegrinned with embarrassment, and hitched his head towards Kaviak. 

"I guess you've jawed enough, " said Maudie, leaving the others andcoming to the foot of the bed. 

"And Maudie's goin' back, too, " said the sick man. 

She nodded. 

"And you're never goin' to leave her again?"

"No. "

"Maudie's a little bit of All Right, " said the patient. The Big Chimneymen assented, but with sudden misgiving. 

"What was that job ye said ye were wantin' me forr?"

"Oh, Maudie's got a friend of hers to fix it up. "

"Fix what up?" demanded Potts. 

"Little postscript to my will. "

Mac jerked his head at the nurse. With that clear sight of dying eyesthe Colonel understood. A meaner spirit would have been galled at thepart those "Louisville Instructions" had been playing, but cheapcynicism was not in the Colonel's line. He knew the awful pinch of lifeup here, and he thought no less of his comrades for asking that lastservice of getting them home. But it was the day of the final"clean-up" for the Colonel; he must not leave misapprehension behind. 

"I wanted Maudie to have my Minóok claim----"

"Got a Minóok claim o' my own. "

"So I've left it to be divided----"

They all looked up. 

"One-half to go to a little girl in 'Frisco, and the other half--well, I've left the other half to Kaviak. Strikes me he ought to have alittle piece o' the North. "

"Y-yes!"

"Oh, yes!"

"Good idea!"

"Mac thought he'd go over to the other tent and cook some dinner. Therewas a general movement. As they were going out:

"Boy!"

"Yes?" He came back, Nig followed, and the two stood by the camp-bedwaiting their Colonel's orders. 

"Don't you go wastin' any more time huntin' gold-mines. "

"I don't mean to. "

"Go back to your own work; go back to your own people. "

The Boy listened and looked away. 

"It's good to go pioneering, but it's good to go home. Oh-h--!" theface on the pillow was convulsed for that swift passing moment--"bestof all to go home. And if you leave your home too long, your homeleaves you. "

"Home doesn't seem so important as it did when I came up here. "

The Colonel fastened one hand feverishly on his pardner's arm. 

"I've been afraid of that. It's magic; break away. Promise me you'll goback and stay. Lord, Lord!" he laughed feebly, "to think a fella shouldhave to be urged to leave the North alone. Wonderful place, but there'sBlack Magic in it. Or who'd ever come--who'd ever stay?"

He looked anxiously into the Boy's set face. 

"I'm not saying the time was wasted, " he went on; "I reckon it was agood thing you came. "

"Yes, it was a good thing I came. "

"You've learned a thing or two. "

"Several. "

"Specially on the Long Trail. "

"Most of all on the Long Trail. "

The Colonel shut his eyes. Maudie came and held a cup to his lips. 

"Thank you. I begin to feel a little foggy. What was it we learned onthe Trail, pardner?" But the Boy had turned away. "Wasn't it--didn't welearn how near a tolerable decent man is to bein' a villain?"

"We learned that a man can't be quite a brute as long as he sticks toanother man. "

"Oh, was that it?"

 * * * * *

In the night Maudie went away to sleep. The Boy watched. 

"Do you know what I'm thinking about?" the sick man said suddenly. 

"About--that lady down at home?"

"Guess again. "

"About--those fellas at Holy Cross?"

"No, I never was as taken up with the Jesuits as you were. No, Sah, I'mthinkin' about the Czar. " (Poor old Colonel! he was wandering again. )"Did I ever tell you I saw him once?"

"No. "

"Did--had a good look at him. Knew a fella in Petersburg, too, that--"He rested a moment. "That Czar's all right. Only he sends the wrongpeople to Siberia. Ought to go himself, and take his Ministers, for awinter on the Trail. " On his face suddenly the old half-smiling, half-shrewd look. "But, Lord bless you! 'tisn't only the Czar. We allhave times o' thinkin' we're some punkins. Specially Kentuckians. Ireckon most men have their days when they're twelve feet high, andwouldn't stoop to say 'Thank ye' to a King. Let 'em go on the WinterTrail. "

"Yes, " agreed the Boy, "they'd find out--" And he stopped. 

"Plenty o' use for Head Men, though. " The faint voice rang with an echoof the old authority. "No foolishness, but just plain: 'I'm the onethat's doin' the leadin'--like Nig here--and it's my business to lickthe hind dog if he shirks. '" He held out his hand and closed it overhis friend's. "I was Boss o' the Big Chimney, Boy, but you were Boss o'the Trail. "

 * * * * *

The Colonel was buried in the old moose pasture, with people standingby who knew that the world had worn a friendlier face because he hadbeen in it. That much was clear, even before it was found that he hadleft to each of the Big Chimney men five hundred dollars, not to bedrawn except for the purpose of going home. 

They thought it was the sense of that security that made them put offthe day. They would "play the game up to the last moment, and see--"

September's end brought no great change in fortune, but a change withalof deep significance. The ice had begun to run in the Yukon. No manneeded telling it would "be a tuhble wintah, and dey'd better move downSouf. " All the late boats by both routes had been packed. Those men whohad failed, and yet, most tenacious, were hanging on for some lastlucky turn of the wheel, knew the risk they ran. And now to-day thefinal boat of the year was going down the long way to the Behring Sea, and by the Canadian route, open a little longer, the Big Chimney men, by grace of that one left behind, would be on the last ship to shootthe rapids in '98. 

Not only to the thousands who were going, to those who stayed behindthere was something in the leaving of the last boat--something thatknocked upon the heart. They, too, could still go home. They gatheredat the docks and told one another they wouldn't leave Dawson for fiftythousand dollars, then looked at the "failures" with home-sick eyes, remembering those months before the luckiest Klondyker could hear fromthe world outside. Between now and then, what would have come to passup here, and what down there below!

The Boy had got a place for Muckluck in the A. C. Store. She was handyat repairing and working in fur, and said she was "all right" on thisbright autumn morning when the Boy went in to say good-bye. With awhite woman and an Indian boy, in a little room overlooking thewater-front, Muckluck was working in the intervals of watching thecrowds on the wharf. Eyes more experienced than hers might well stare. Probably in no other place upon the globe was gathered as motley acrew: English, Indian, Scandinavian, French, German, Negroes, Chinese, Poles, Japs, Finns. All the fine gentlemen had escaped by earlierboats. All the smart young women with their gold-nugget buttons as bigas your thumb, lucky miners from the creeks with heavy consignments ofdust to take home, had been too wary to run any risk of theNever-Know-What closing inopportunely. The great majority here, on thewharf, dazed or excited, lugging miscellaneous possessions--things theyhad clung to in straits so desperate they knew no more how to relaxtheir hold than dead fingers do--these were men whose last chance hadbeen the Klondyke, and who here, as elsewhere, had failed. Many whocame in young were going out old; but the odd thing was that thoseworst off went out game--no whining, none of the ostentatious pathos ofthose broken on the wheel of a great city. 

A man under Muckluck's window, dressed in a moose-skin shirt, strawhat, broadcloth trousers, and carpet slippers, in one hand a tin pail, in the other something tied in a handkerchief, called out lustily to aragged individual, cleaving a way through the throng, "Got your stuffaboard?"

"Yes, goin' to get it off. I ain't goin' home till next year. "

And the face above the moose-skin shirt was stricken with a suddenenvy. Without any telling, he knew just how his pardner's heart hadfailed him, when it came to turning his tattered back on thepossibilities of the Klondyke. 

"Oh, I'm comin' back soon's I get a grub-stake. "

"I ain't, " said another with a dazed expression--a Klondyker carryinghome his frying-pan, the one thing, apparently, saved out of the wreck. 

"You think you ain't comin' back? Just wait! Once you've lived up here, the Outside ain't good enough fur yer. "

"Right!" said an old Forty-miler, "you can try it; but Lord! how you'llmiss this goll-darn Yukon. "

Among the hundreds running about, talking, bustling, haulingheterogeneous luggage, sending last letters, doing last deals, a scoreof women either going by this boat or saying good-bye to those whowere; and Potts, the O'Flynns, and Mac waiting to hand over Kaviak toSister Winifred. 

The Boy at the open window above, staring down on the tatterdemalionthrong, remembered his first meeting with the Big Chimney men as theWashington City steamed out of San Francisco's Golden Gate a year and amonth before. 

Of course, even in default of finding millions, something stirringmight have happened, something heroic, rewarding to the spirit, if noother how; but (his own special revelation blurred, swamped for themoment in the common wreck) he said to himself that nothing of the sorthad befallen the Big Chimney men any more than to the whipped andbankrupt crew struggling down there on the wharf. They simply hadfailed--all alike. And yet there was between them and the commonfailures of the world one abiding difference: these had greatly dared. As long as the meanest in that crowd drew breath and held to memory, solong might he remember the brave and terrible days of the KlondykeRush, and that he had borne in it his heavy share. No share in any minesave that--the knowledge that he was not among the vast majority whosit dully to the end beside what things they were born to--the earningsof other men, the savings of other women, afraid to go seeking afterbetter lest they lose the good they have. They had failed, but it couldnever be said of a Klondyker that he had not tried. He might, in truth, look down upon the smug majority that smiles at unusual endeavour, unless success excuses, crowns it. No one there, after all, so poor buthe had one possession treasured among kings. And he had risked it. Whatcould a man do more?

"Good-bye, Muckluck. "

"Goo'-bye? Boat Canada way no go till Thursday. "

"Thursday, yes, " he said absently, eyes still on the American ship. 

"Then why you say goo'-bye to-day?"

"Lot to do. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. "

Her creamy face was suddenly alight, but not with gratitude. 

"Oh, yes, all right here, " she said haughtily. "I not like much theBoston men--King George men best. " It was so her sore heart abjured hercountry. For among the natives of the Klondyke white history stopswhere it began when George the Third was King. "I think"--she shotsideways a shrewd look--"I think I marry a King George man. "

And at the prospect her head drooped heavily. 

"Then you'll want to wear this at your wedding. "

The Boy drew his hand out of his pocket, threw a walrus-string over herbent head, and when she could see clear again, her Katharine medal wasswinging below her waist, and "the Boston man" was gone. 

She stared with blinded eyes out of the window, till suddenly in themist one face was clear. The Boy! Standing still down there in thehurly-burly, hands in pockets, staring at the ship. 

Suddenly Sister Winifred, her black veil swirling in the wind. Anorderly from St. Mary's Hospital following with a little trunk. At thegangway she is stopped by the purser, asked some questions, smiles atfirst and shakes her head, and then in dismay clasps her hands, seemingto plead, while the whistle shrieks. 

Muckluck turned and flew down the dark little stair, threaded her wayin and out among the bystanders on the wharf till she reached theSister's side. The nun was saying that she not only had no money, butthat a Yukon purser must surely know the Sisters were forbidden tocarry it. He could not doubt but the passage money would be made goodwhen they got to Holy Cross. But the purser was a new man, and when Macand others who knew the Yukon custom expostulated, he hustled themaside and told Sister Winifred to stand back, the gangway was going up. It was then the Boy came and spoke to the man, finally drew out somemoney and paid the fare. The nun, not recognising him, too bewilderedby this rough passage with the world even to thank the stranger, stoodmotionless, grasping Kaviak's hand--two children, you would say--herlong veil blowing, hurrying on before her to that haven in the waste, the mission at Holy Cross. 

Again the Boy was delaying the upward swing of the gangway: the nun'strunk must come on board. Two men rushed for it while he held down thegang. 

"Mustn't cry, " he said to Muckluck. "You'll see Sister Winifred again. "

"Not for that I cry. Ah, I never shall have happiness!"

"Yes, that trunk!" he called. 

In the babel of voices shouting from ship and shore, the Boy heardPrincess Muckluck saying, with catches in her breath:

"I always knew I would get no luck!"

"Why?"

"Ah! I was a bad child. The baddest of all the Pymeut children. "

"Yes, yes, they've got it now!" the Boy shouted up to the Captain. Thenlow, and smiling absently: "What did you do that was so bad. Princess?"

"Me? I--I mocked at the geese. It was the summer they were so late; andas they flew past Pymeut I--yes, I mocked at them. "

A swaying and breaking of the crowd, the little trunk flung on board, the men rushing back to the wharf, the gang lifted, and the last LowerRiver boat swung out into the ice-flecked stream. 

Keen to piercing a cry rang out--Muckluck's:

"Stop! They carry him off! It is meestake! Oh! Oh!"

The Boy was standing for'ard, Nig beside him. 

O'Flynn rushed to the wharf's edge and screamed at the Captain to"Stop, be the Siven!" Mac issued orders most peremptory. Muckluck weptas excitedly as though there had never been question of the Boy's goingaway. But while the noise rose and fell, Potts drawled a "Guess hemeans to go that way!"

"No, he don't!"

"Stop, you--------, Captain!"

"Stop your----boat!"

"Well, " said a bystander, "I never seen any feller as calm as that whowas bein' took the way he didn't want to go. "

"D'ye mean there's a new strike?"

The suggestion flashed electric through the crowd. It was the onlypossible explanation. 

"He knows what he's about. "

"Lord! I wish I'd 'a' froze to him!"

"Yep, " said Buck One, "never seen that young feller when he looked morelike he wouldn't give a whoop in hell to change places with anybody. "

As O'Flynn, back from his chase, hoarse and puffing, stopped suddenly:

"Be the Siven! Father Brachet said the little divil 'd be coming backto Howly Cross!"

"Where's that?"

"Lower River camp. "

"Gold there?"

"No. "

"Then you're talking through your hat!"

"Say, Potts, where in hell is he goin'?"

"Damfino!"

THE END